breath when the second lap was half over. He had gradually
dropped back to last place in the straggling procession and when the
end of the run was in sight he was practically alone on the track,
almost all of the others having turned in through the gate and made for
the gym. Roy had just finished the turn at an easy jog when he heard
cries of distress from the direction of the stables behind him.

"Spot, drop it! Oh, you bad, wicked cat! John! John! Where are you,
John? Spot! _Spot! O-o-oh!_" The exclamations ended in a wild,
long-drawn wail of feminine anguish.

"A girl," thought Roy. "Wonder what's up. Guess I'd better go see."

Turning, he struck off from the track at a run, crossed a triangle of
turf and found himself confronted by the wide hedge. But he could see
over it, and what he saw was an odd little enclosure formed by one end
of the barn and two walls of packing cases and boxes piled one upon
another. In the center of the enclosure stood a girl with the bluest of
blue eyes, the reddest of red hair and the most despairing of freckled
faces. At first glance she seemed to be surrounded by dogs and cats and
pigeons; afterwards Roy found that the animals were not so numerous as
had first appeared. The girl saw Roy quite as soon as he saw her.

"Oh, quick, _quick_!" she commanded, pointing toward the roof of a low
shed nearby. "Spot has got one of the babies and he's killing it! Can't
you hurry, boy?"

Roy looked doubtfully at the broad hedge. Then he retreated a few steps,
took a running jump, landing three-quarters way across the top and
wriggled himself to the ground on the other side in a confusion of
circling pigeons.

"Where?" he gasped when he had gathered himself up.

"There!" shrieked the girl, still pointing tragically. "Can't you climb
up and get it away from him? Can't you do anything, you--you stupid
silly?"

At last Roy saw the reason for her fright. On the edge of the shed roof,
lashing his tail in ludicrous ferocity, crouched a half-grown cat, and
under his claws lay a tiny young white rabbit. Roy looked hurriedly
about for a stick, but nothing of the description lay at hand. Meanwhile
the red-haired girl taunted him to action, interspersing wails of
despair with pleas for help and sprinkling the whole with
uncomplimentary reflections on his courage and celerity.

"Aren't you going to do _anything_?" she wailed. "Are you going to stand
there all night? Oh, please, _please_ rescue him!"