"Mr. Scott," she called. "Wouldn't it be a good plan to take
Tag--Theo's dog--with you?"
Mr. Scott thought it would, but now an unexpected obstacle was
encountered. Tag refused to go with him. He crept under Nan's dress,
and crouched there, looking quietly out at the gentleman, but making
no movement toward him, though he called and whistled as persuasively
as he could.
"Oh, Tag, do go," pleaded Nan, almost ready to cry at the dog's
unexpected obstinacy.
Tag twisted his head and looked up at her, and it almost seemed as if
he were moved by her pleading tone, for, after a moment's hesitation,
he crept slowly out from his refuge, and followed Mr. Scott down the
stairs. Once outside the house he stopped and gazed with keen,
questioning eyes at the gentleman, standing, meanwhile, ready to dart
off, should any attempt be made to capture him, but Mr. Scott stopped
too, and said quietly,
"Go find him, Tag. Find Theo."
That was enough for the intelligent little creature. With a quick,
sharp yelp of satisfaction, Tag set off at such a pace that Mr. Scott
had hard work to keep him in sight. In fact, as soon as they turned
into a thronged business street, he lost sight of his four-footed
guide entirely, but the direction Tag had taken was a sufficient clue.
The young man was so certain that the Emergency Hospital was the place
to which the dog was leading him, that he boarded a car and went
directly there, and sure enough on the steps sat Tag, his short ears
erect, and his eager eyes watching impatiently for a chance to slip
inside the doors.
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