else I've ever tried."

Thereafter Spot often pointed at Miss Kitty when he met her, either inside the house or about the yard. And she never failed to fly into a passion.

"Such manners I never saw!" she spluttered when she talked one day with a cat from the nearest farmhouse.

"I'd soon cure the old dog of that unpleasant trick if he tried it on me," her neighbor remarked.

"What would you do?" Miss Kitty Cat wanted to know.

"I'd chase him."

"He can run faster than I can," said Miss Kitty.

"When he's pointing at you, jump at him before he can turn around. If you drag your claws across his nose just once he'll be careful after that to look the other way when he sees you."

"Your plan sounds as if it might be worth trying," said Miss Kitty thoughtfully.

III
A WILD DOG

Old dog Spot felt greatly pleased with himself. He had told everybody that would listen to him how he could make Miss Kitty Cat angry just by standing still and pointing at her.

"You'd better leave that cat alone," the old horse Ebenezer advised him. "Don't you remember how she clawed you when you cornered her in this barn one day?"

"I remember—yes!" Spot admitted, as he looked cross-eyed at his nose, which still bore the marks of Miss Kitty's claws. "I'm careful not to stand too near her," he explained. "I don't try to grab her. I just stare at her. And she gets wild."

"A wild cat," old Ebenezer warned him, "is a dangerous creature."

"Nonsense!" said Spot. "She always sneaks away after I've pointed at her for a few minutes. It's the funniest sight! If you could see it once you'd know she was terribly afraid of me."

"Nonsense!" said the old horse Ebenezer. But he couldn't make Spot believe there was the slightest danger in teasing Miss Kitty Cat.

"She always runs up a tree after I've been pointing at her," Spot went on.

"You'd better look out!" Ebenezer cautioned him. "She'll have you climbing a tree the first thing you know."

Well, that made Spot laugh. And he went out of the barn feeling even more pleased with himself than ever. He was sorry that Miss Kitty Cat wasn't in the yard. He felt just like bothering her.

"I'll go up to the pasture and find me a woodchuck to chase," Spot said to himself, for he was in such high spirits that he simply had to have fun of some sort.

First, however, he decided to stop and dig up a bone that he had buried in the flower garden. So he trotted across the yard. And as he drew near the farmhouse he changed his plans all at once. He forgot his bone and he forgot his woodchuck, too. For he caught sight of something that had escaped his eye before. Stretched on the ledge outside one of the kitchen windows Miss Kitty Cat was enjoying a nap in the sunshine.

"Aha!" said Spot very softly. "Aha! Here's a bit of luck." And he turned sharply aside and hurried towards the house, to come to a dead stop beneath the window and stand there motionless with his nose pointing at the sleeping form of Miss Kitty.

Though Spot didn't make the slightest noise the sleeper suddenly opened her eyes.

"Tchah!" she exclaimed, springing to her feet and glaring at her annoyer.

Spot Bolted Through the Barn Door.
(Page 16)

If the window hadn't been closed no doubt Miss Kitty would have slipped through it into the kitchen. But there was no escape that way.

"It's a pity," she muttered, "that a person can't take a cat nap without being stared at by this old dog. I think it's about time I took my neighbor's advice and taught him to keep his eyes and his nose where they belong."

Then Miss Kitty Cat jumped. She jumped off the window ledge straight at old dog Spot, who was still gazing up at her from below.

When he saw her coming he gave a startled yelp and tried to dodge her. But he was too slow. Miss Kitty Cat landed squarely on his back and clawed him savagely.

Old Spot dashed half way across the farmyard, then dropped suddenly and rolled over and over on the ground.

The next instant he was on his feet again and tearing toward the barn. Though Miss Kitty had dropped off his back and was already on her way to the house he did not look around to see what had become of her.

Spot bolted through the barn door and scurried into an empty stall, where he jumped into the manger and cowered down in the hay that half filled it, and moaned.

It was the stall next to the old horse Ebenezer's. And that mild fellow peered over at him in wonder. "What has happened?" he inquired.

"The cat scratched me," Spot told him. "I was teasing her and she wasn't at all nice about it."

"What were you doing—pointing at her?" Ebenezer asked him.

"Yes!"

"I suppose it made her wild," the old horse remarked. "And a wild cat is a dangerous creature."

Spot whined fretfully. He wished he could lick his wounds. But how can one lick scratches when they are behind one's ears?

"I was a wild dog for a few moments," he groaned. "I never dreamed she would plump down on me like that."

"Haven't you ever heard of it's raining cats and dogs?" Ebenezer said. "Well, to-day it rained cats."

IV
THE WOODPILE

Farmer Green always had a woodpile in the back yard. Sometimes it was big. Sometimes it was little. Sometimes it was mostly made up of four-foot logs. Sometimes the logs were all split and sawed, ready to burn.

When Farmer Green and the hired man had nothing more pressing to do they set to work on the woodpile. It was surprising how fast the big sticks grew into firewood under their axes and saws.

One day they started sawing and splitting when Johnnie Green and old dog Spot were roaming through the woods. And when Johnnie and Spot came back home, just in time for dinner, they found a great heap of firewood lying on the ground where there had been nothing but dirt when they started for the woods some hours before.

Old dog Spot ran straight to the woodpile and began sniffing and scratching and whining.

If Johnnie Green hadn't been hungry he would have paid more heed to Spot's behavior. But the men had already gone into the house. And Johnnie hurried after them, leaving Spot to nose about the woodpile as he pleased.

"Humph!" Spot growled. "Seems to me Johnnie Green might stay here a while and help me. I've been chasing woodchucks and squirrels for him all the morning. And I showed him a few birds, too."

Spot never once left the woodpile while Johnnie was eating his dinner. When Johnnie and his father and the hired man came out of the house later old Spot began to yelp. He made frantic efforts to burrow down beneath the pile of firewood, stopping now and then to run up to his young master and bark.

Now that he had had his dinner, Johnnie Green was all ready for any sort of fun.

"Spot smells some kind of game in the woodpile!" Johnnie exclaimed.

"Perhaps he does," said his father. "But I don't see how he's going to get hold of it unless we move the woodpile. And I don't believe we'll quit work to help the old dog catch a chipmunk—or maybe a rat."

"Come on!" Spot begged Johnnie, as plainly as he could bark. "Move some of this wood for me! There's something under it that I want to get my teeth on."

"All right! All right!" Johnnie told him. And to his father Johnnie said, "Do you care if I throw some of the stove wood over on the other side of the pile?"

"If you're going to move any wood—" Farmer Green replied with a wink at the hired