Chub’s head. He stopped at the gate and pointed.
“Milk,” he ejaculated.
“Yes, but we didn’t bring anything to put it in,” Roy objected.
“It doesn’t matter. They’ll lend us a can, maybe. Come on.”
So they trudged up the long lane and knocked on the front door. Receiving no answer after a decent interval of waiting, they proceeded around back. At a little distance stood a big barn. Near-by was a well with a number of big milk cans beside it.
“There you are,” said Chub. “Maybe they’ll lend us one of those. Come on.”
The back door was open and from the little covered porch they had a glimpse of a very clean and tidy kitchen. Chub knocked. There was no answer.
“All out, it seems,” he muttered. He knocked again and then raised his voice. “Any one at home?” he asked.
There was. A big, rough-coated yellow dog bounded across the yard, the hair along his back
