had been warned never to go near the butcher's dog, and it really
seemed almost beyond the bounds of sport to wait patiently until he
chose to bite them.

"We will run for the house!" cried Madge, rather enjoying the
excitement. "Now, off!"

As is often the case, Betty, being the most nervous and anxious to get
away, made a false start, her foot slipped between two logs of wood and
remained firmly jammed. "Oh stop! stop!" she cried, as the others, not
noticing her misfortune, were hurrying away across the field in the
direction of home. "I can't get out! Don't run away!" she wailed
frantically, twisting and tugging at her foot, but only succeeding in
hurting her ankle rather severely.

The large dog, who had up to this time contented himself with sniffing
about at the top of the field near the yard where his master was
standing, being attracted by the noise now began prowling like a wolf
nearer and nearer to the oak-tree. Betty, looking up from an
ineffectual struggle to roll the logs farther apart, saw him half-way
across the field towards her, and gave a terrific scream.

"What's that?" cried Madge, checking herself and looking back. "Why,
Betty has never come! What's the matter?" While speaking she had
turned and was rushing back towards her younger sister.

"The dog is coming! Look! He is coming!" shrieked Betty, almost
frantic with fright.

"I'll keep him off! Trust me!" gasped Madge, breathless with running,
as she posted herself in front of the logs, waving her stick like a
battle-axe. Her courage was undeniable, and fortunately her strength
was not put to any proof, as the butcher, hearing terrified cries,
stepped outside the yard and whistled to his dog.

"There! it has turned round! It is running back to its master! Barton
is there, so he will take care that it doesn't follow us again. I dare
say it would not have bitten, though," said Madge soothingly, as Betty
sobbed on her shoulder.

John came up at this moment, and they both tried to push the heavy logs
away, but could not move them an inch, even with all their strength.
At one time it really seemed as if Betty must remain there all night.

"It's no use pulling any more," panted Madge, scarlet from her efforts.
"I shall run up to Papa's workshop and get his little axe. Then I can
chop away the log enough for her to get out."

Possibly Betty was terrified by the prospect of having an axe wielded
by alarmingly energetic but unski