“Wh-what’s up?” he demanded sleepily.

“Oh, hush,” cried Billie.  Scurrying to his bed and leaning over, she whispered the awful words:  “There’s a burglar in the house, Chet.”

“A burglar?” repeated Chet, wide awake by this time.  “Who says so?”

“Don’t be foolish!  Didn’t I hear him myself?” cried Billie in a desperate whisper.  “Oh, Chet, he’s on the stairs outside.”

“Well, why doesn’t he come in?  Is he bashful?” queried Chet, seeming not in the least alarmed.  Billie shook him impatiently.

“He probably would have come in if I hadn’t locked the doors,” she told him impatiently.  “For goodness’ sake, Chet, wake up and tell me what to do.  He may have stolen everything we own by this time.”

“Hush,” cried Chet, grasping her arm, and in a tense silence they listened.

Yes, they could not be mistaken—­something was surely brushing against the door.

Thank heaven, she had locked it, thought Billie, as she began to feel her hair stand on end again.

Once more came that brushing sound.  And then, very distinctly, a sniff!

“Oh, Chet,” cried Billie, clutching her brother’s arm spasmodically.

“Nervy beggar,” muttered Chet.  “If I had a gun I’d know what to do.  But say,” he added, as a happy thought struck him, “there’s Dad’s!” He was out of bed and across the room before Billie could do more than gasp.  Fearfully she followed after.

Luckily Chet had elected to sleep in his parents’ room during their absence so as to be nearer Billie, and he had happened to remember the secret hiding place that his father had shown him not long before where he kept his revolver always loaded and ready for action.

“Oh, Chet, do be careful!” whispered Billie, as Chet drew the ugly-looking thing out of the hidden drawer and examined it.  “I—­I think I’m more afraid of that than I am of the b-burglar.”

Chet’s only answer was a grim “Come on,” from between set young lips.  Fearfully they made their way over to the door.

Their burglar seemed to have gone on to some other room, for they could hear the stealthy padding at the other end of the hall.  But now he had turned in their direction.

Very carefully Chet turned the key in the lock, and then, while Billie pressed both hands over her heart to quiet its pounding, Chet flung open the door and stepped into the hall.  Billie was right at his heels.

And then the impossible thing happened.  A dark shape coming slowly toward them stopped at sight of them and uttered a low bark.

Yes, the sound that issued from their supposed burglar was a very distinct and friendly canine bark.

For a minute Chet and Billie just stared speechlessly.  Then slowly the revolver in Chet’s hand dropped to his side and he began to laugh.  It was a weak laugh at first, but it gradually swelled into a roar as he took in the full humor of the situation.