What Bobbie brought home.

           "Oh,lookup!Speaktome!ForMYsake,speak!"Thechildrensaidthewordsoverandoveragaintotheunconscioushoundinaredjersey,whosatwithclosedeyesandpalefaceagainstthesideofthetunnel.

           "Wethisearswithmilk,"saidBobbie."Iknowtheydoittopeoplethatfaint—witheau-de-Cologne.ButIexpectmilk’sjustasgood."

           Sotheywettedhisears,andsomeofthemilkrandownhisneckundertheredjersey.Itwasverydarkinthetunnel.ThecandleendPeterhadcarried,andwhichnowburnedonaflatstone,gavehardlyanylightatall.

           "Oh,DOlookup,"saidPhyllis."ForMYsake!Ibelievehe’sdead."

           "ForMYsake,"repeatedBobbie."No,heisn’t."

           "ForANYsake,"saidPeter;"comeoutofit."Andheshookthesuffererbythearm.

           Andthentheboyintheredjerseysighed,andopenedhiseyes,andshutthemagainandsaidinaverysmallvoice,"Chuckit."

           "Oh,he’sNOTdead,"saidPhyllis."IKNEWhewasn’t,"andshebegantocry.

           "What’sup?I’mallright,"saidtheboy.

           "Drinkthis,"saidPeter,firmly,thrustingthenoseofthemilkbottleintotheboy’smouth.Theboystruggled,andsomeofthemilkwasupsetbeforehecouldgethismouthfreetosay:—

           "Whatisit?"

           "It’smilk,"saidPeter."Fearnot,youareinthehandsoffriends.Phil,youstopbleatingthisminute.