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Name: Class: Date:
Chapter 06: Enhancing and Validating Forms
Cengage Learning Testing, Powered by Cognero Page 1
True / False
1. While JavaScript lets you perform validation in a user’s browser, the server-side programs that receive form data
generally perform validation as well.
a. True
b. False
ANSWER: True
POINTS: 1
REFERENCES: 364
2. By default, browsers create an collection of form objects that you can reference using array notation.
a. True
b. False
ANSWER: True
POINTS: 1
REFERENCES: 366
367
3. Assistive functions perform a type of validation.
a. True
b. False
ANSWER: False
POINTS: 1
REFERENCES: 371
4. You can use HTML to set the default value of a selection list so no option is selected.
a. True
b. False
ANSWER: False
POINTS: 1
REFERENCES: 371
5. Modern browsers can perform many validation tasks themselves without any extra JavaScript.
a. True
b. False
ANSWER: True
POINTS: 1
REFERENCES: 394
Multiple Choice
6. To check if an option button is selected, you access the value of its ____ property.
a. marked b. selected
c. checked d. value
ANSWER: c

Name: Class: Date:
POINTS: 1
REFERENCES: 418
7. To display no default value on a selection list, you set its ____ property to -1.
a. selectedIndex b. checked
c. selected d. value
ANSWER: a
POINTS: 1
REFERENCES: 371
8. Many aspects of the way browsers present browser-based validation feedback are customizable through the properties
and methods of the ____.
a. Document Object Model b. DOM tree
c. browser object model d. constraint validation API
ANSWER: d
POINTS: 1
REFERENCES: 398
9. The ____ event fires when a form is submitted.
a. clear b. blur
c. input d. submit
ANSWER: d
POINTS: 1
REFERENCES: 404
10. You use the ____ method on an object to block the action normally associated with an event.
a. preventDefault() b. submit()
c. checkValidity() d. select()
ANSWER: a
POINTS: 1
REFERENCES: 405
11. Which form element is useful for limiting user options to a set of choices?
a. textarea b. selection list
c. text input box d. submit button
ANSWER: b
POINTS: 1
REFERENCES: 369
370
12. You create an empty document fragment using the ____ method.
a. cloneNode() b. createElement()
c. submit() d. createDocumentFragment()
ANSWER: d

Name: Class: Date:
POINTS: 1
REFERENCES: 376
13. Which attribute enhances usability in modern browsers?
a. id b. src
c. placeholder d. value
ANSWER: c
POINTS: 1
REFERENCES: 381
14. What element property would you use when copying the contents of one text field to another text field?
a. value b. default
c. content d. selectedIndex
ANSWER: a
POINTS: 1
REFERENCES: 390
391
15. Which attribute toggles off validation of a form when added to the opening <form> tag?
a. validation b. submit
c. novalidate d. nosubmit
ANSWER: c
POINTS: 1
REFERENCES: 394
16. Which type value for the input element triggers validation in modern browsers?
a. validate b. text
c. number d. password
ANSWER: c
POINTS: 1
REFERENCES: 394
395
17. In modern browsers, which attribute of an input element prevents the form from being submitted if the field is left
blank?
a. novalidate b. required
c. min d. max
ANSWER: a
POINTS: 1
REFERENCES: 394
18. Validation errors found by modern browsers are reported in ____.
a. separate browser windows b. the Address bar
c. the Status bar d. bubbles

Name: Class: Date:
ANSWER: d
POINTS: 1
REFERENCES: 396
19. In general, modern browsers display validation feedback after the ____ event is triggered by a form.
a. submit b. reset
c. validate d. check
ANSWER: a
POINTS: 1
REFERENCES: 398
20. You can use the CSS ____ pseudo-classes to change the properties of form elements based on their validity status.
a. :submit and :reset b. :hover and :blur
c. :before and :after d. :invalid and :valid
ANSWER: d
POINTS: 1
REFERENCES: 399
21. To check a group of fields and trigger an error message if any of them is empty, you use a(n) ____ statement.
a. debugger b. loop
c. console.log() d. submit
ANSWER: b
POINTS: 1
REFERENCES: 410
22. For any fields that require numeric values, you can use JavaScript’s built-in ____ function to determine whether a user
actually entered a number.
a. submit() b. reset()
c. validate() d. isNaN()
ANSWER: d
POINTS: 1
REFERENCES: 429
23. When a control's value is found to be invalid during constraint validation, the ____ event is triggered.
a. input b. invalid
c. change d. focus
ANSWER: b
POINTS: 1
REFERENCES: 366
24. Instead of document.getElementsByTagName("form")[0], you could use the code
a. document.forms[0]
b. document.form[0]
c. document.getFormElements[0]

Name: Class: Date:
d. document.forms.form[0]
ANSWER: a
POINTS: 1
REFERENCES: 366
367
25. Use of the ____ attribute of the form element is not allowed in the strict DTD for XHTML.
a. id b. class
c. name d. method
ANSWER: c
POINTS: 1
REFERENCES: 367
Completion
26. __________ is the process of checking that information provided by users conforms to rules to ensure that it
appropriately answers a form's questions and is provided in a format that the site's back-end programs can work with.
ANSWER: Validation
validation
POINTS: 1
REFERENCES: 364
27. Enhancements to HTML and to modern browsers have allowed browsers themselves to perform many validation tasks
without any extra JavaScript. This type of validation is known as __________ validation.
ANSWER: browser-based
browser based
native
HTML5
HTML 5
POINTS: 1
REFERENCES: 394
28. Creating a function to validate required fields generally involves retrieving the values of the required fields and
checking if the value of any of them is __________.
ANSWER: an empty string
empty string
empty
""
POINTS: 1
REFERENCES: 408
29. For all custom validation, it can be helpful to use the __________ structure for handling errors.
ANSWER: try/catch
try catch
POINTS: 1
REFERENCES: 408

Name: Class: Date:
30. To send the values entered in a form to a web server with JavaScript, you use the __________ method.
ANSWER: submit
submit()
POINTS: 1
REFERENCES: 365
Matching
Match each item with a statement below:
a. bubble
b. validation
c. constraint validation API
d. isNaN() function
e. placeholder
f. required
g. validity object
h. assistive functions
i. preventDefault()
j. friction
REFERENCES: 364
371
381
382
395
396
398
401
405
429
31. Displays a validation error in a modern browser
ANSWER: a
POINTS: 1
32. Reduce the likelihood of user errors when completing a form
ANSWER: h
POINTS: 1
33. Enables customization of validation feedback in modern browsers
ANSWER: c
POINTS: 1
34. Persistence required for a user to accomplish a goal
ANSWER: j
POINTS: 1

Name: Class: Date:
35. Determines whether a value is not a number
ANSWER: d
POINTS: 1
36. Checking that information provided by users conforms to rules
ANSWER: b
POINTS: 1
37. Provides guidance about what data should be entered in a text box
ANSWER: e
POINTS: 1
38. If all its properties are false, then its value is true
ANSWER: g
POINTS: 1
39. Stops a form from being submitted when the submit event is triggered
ANSWER: i
POINTS: 1
40. Indicates that a form element must have a value
ANSWER: f
POINTS: 1
Subjective Short Answer
41. How can you add options to a selection list with JavaScript?
ANSWER: Using the methods for creating and attaching nodes in the node tree, you can add and remove
option elements in a select element.
POINTS: 1
REFERENCES: 375
42. Describe two advantages of referencing form objects using methods such as getElementById() rather than the
forms array.
ANSWER: Any two of the following:
1. One advantage of referencing form objects using methods such as
getElementById() rather than the forms array is that you don’t need to switch between
using one syntax for referencing form objects and another syntax for non-form objects.
2. In addition, using Document object methods makes your code more flexible when you need the
same code to be able to refer to both form and non-form elements.
3. Finally, use of the name attribute is not allowed in the strict DTD for XHTML, so if you’re
writing JavaScript to work with XHTML documents, you cannot use the forms array or other
browser arrays.
POINTS: 1

Name: Class: Date:
REFERENCES: 367
43. In what situations can you get more accurate information on a form by using form fields other than text boxes? Name
two types of fields you might use instead.
ANSWER: Sometimes the information requested for a field is restricted to a small, discrete list—the names of a few
credit cards, for instance. Asking users to type this information opens your form to the possibility that
they’ll misspell a word, use an abbreviation that your back-end system doesn’t recognize, or simply enter
data that’s not within the acceptable parameters. Instead, you can use other types of form fields to
present users with acceptable choices, and limit their options to those choices.
Any two of the following:
• option buttons
• selection lists
• check boxes
• sliders
• data lists
POINTS: 1
REFERENCES: 369
370
44. What is an assistive function? Give an example of a situation in which you might use an assistive function.
ANSWER: In addition to providing users with limited sets of possibilities for different form fields, you can create
JavaScript functions that reduce the likelihood of user errors when completing a form. Such functions,
known as assistive functions, do not perform validation themselves—that is, they don’t check user
content for errors. Instead, these functions prevent users from entering erroneous data in the first place.
Many types of assistive functions are possible; which ones you implement depends on the design of your
form and the type of data you’re trying to collect.
One of the following:
• removing default values from selection lists
• dynamically updating selection list values
POINTS: 1
REFERENCES: 371
374
45. Describe how you can use JavaScript to simulate the behavior of the placeholder attribute in older browsers?.
ANSWER: You can recreate the behavior of the placeholder attribute in older browsers by adding the desired
placeholder text as a default value for an element and changing its color to differentiate it from data a
user has entered (generally using a gray font color rather than black). You can then create an
event listener that’s triggered when a user clicks in the box, which calls a function that removes the
default value.
POINTS: 1
REFERENCES: 382
46. The requirements of the form you’re validating determine the kind of logic you need to incorporate into a custom
validation program. However, a few types of validation functions are particularly common. Name two.

Name: Class: Date:
ANSWER: (any two of the following:)
• Checking that required fields contain entries
• Checking values that are dependent on the values of other controls
• Checking for an appropriate content type in one or more fields
POINTS: 1
REFERENCES: 402
47. Why is is usually not necessary to include testing for the number of characters in user input in custom validation
functions?
ANSWER: Even if you have browser-based validation disabled, both current and older browsers enforce the
maxlength attribute, making it essentially impossible for users to enter more characters in a text input
or textarea box than the maxlength value allows.
POINTS: 1
REFERENCES: 404
48. What does a function to validate required fields generally need to do?
ANSWER: Creating a function to validate required fields generally involves retrieving the values of the required
fields and checking if the value of any of them is an empty string.
POINTS: 1
REFERENCES: 408
49. Describe the three behaviors that make up the placeholder effect in modern browsers, and that you need to replicate
with JavaScript for older browsers.
ANSWER: • Add placeholder text when a page finishes loading.
• Remove placeholder text when a user selects the field.
• Check the contents of the field when the users moves to another field, and if the field is empty,
add back the placeholder text as the value.
POINTS: 1
REFERENCES: 382
50. If you were designing a form with a question that asked users if they had ever visited a certain city, would you expect
more accurate input using a text input box or a check box? Why?
ANSWER: Check box.
The information being requested is a Boolean value -- either yes or no. This lends itself to a check box,
which can have only those two values. In a text input box, users might enter yes, no, y, n, never, or many
other values that would be hard to plan for and difficult to tally automatically once collected.
POINTS: 1
REFERENCES: 369
370
371

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an’ things——”
She almost nodded off to sleep. Mrs. Pangborn kissed her. “I have
heard a good deal about Tom Moran—this evening,” she said, and
she looked significantly back at the door which she had just closed.
Tavia flashed a meaning look at Dorothy, and the moment the
principal was out of the way, she whispered: “What did I tell you?”
“About what?” demanded Dorothy.
“About Miss Olaine and Tom Moran? She knows something about
him and she has been telling Mrs. Pangborn.”
“Sh!” warned Dorothy. “If it was anything that might lead to his
being found, she would have told me—surely.”
“Who?”
“Mother Pangborn.”
“Well, there’s something queer about it,” declared Tavia, nodding,
“and Miss Olaine knows.”
They put Celia to bed in Number Nineteen and some time after
Dorothy had put out the light and crept in beside the little girl—Tavia
was already asleep in her own bed—Dorothy heard a sound outside
of the door.
Somebody was creeping along the corridor. Was it some teacher
on the watch for some infraction of the rules? Dorothy had heard
nothing of a “spread-eagle” affair on this corridor to-night.
The step stopped. Was it at this door? For some moments Dorothy
lay, covered to her ears, and listened.
Then to her surprise she knew that the door was open. It was the
draft from the window that assured her of this fact. The door was

opened wider and a tall figure, dimly visible because of the light in
the hall, pushed into the room.
The lock clicked faintly as the knob was released by the
marauder’s hand. Dorothy was half-frightened at first; then she
knew there could be nobody about the building who would hurt her.
The visitor moved toward her bed. Peeping carefully, but
continuing to breathe in the same regular fashion that Tavia did,
Dorothy watched the shadowy form draw near.
It was a woman, for whoever it was had on a long woollen
dressing gown. But the face and head were in complete shadow,
and at first Dorothy had no idea as to the person’s identity.
The woman came close to the foot of the bed and stood there for
several minutes. Dorothy began to feel highly nervous—she really
thought she should scream. Not that she was afraid as yet; but the
strange actions of the Unknown——
Ah! now she was moving nearer. She was coming alongside—
between Tavia’s and Dorothy’s beds. Celia was on that side, and
Dorothy was about to put her arm protectingly over the child.
Then she feared the visitor would suspect that she was not asleep.
And if she was frightened off, Dorothy might not learn who it was.
So the girl kept very still, continuing to breathe deeply and
regularly. The woman stooped closer and closer. It was over Celia
that she bent, and Dorothy saw her hand steal out to draw the sheet
farther back from the child’s face.
Then Dorothy knew suddenly who it was. She recognized the long,
clawlike hand; and the peculiar ring upon the third finger—the
engagement finger—fully identified Miss Olaine!

Dorothy had often noted that ring on the strange teacher’s hand.
Miss Olaine had come creeping into the room, supposing all the girls
to be asleep, just to see Celia Moran!
There could be no doubt but that Miss Olaine had some deep
interest in the Morans—in both Tom and Celia. Tavia had suggested
such a thing; but really Dorothy had not believed it before Mrs.
Pangborn spoke as she did on this evening as the girls were coming
up to bed with Celia.
The queer teacher bent down and peered into the face of the
unconscious child. A glance at Dorothy seemed to have satisfied her
that the latter was asleep. All her interest was centered in the little
child who had run away from her hard task-mistress.
She stooped lower. Dorothy saw that Miss Olaine’s face was tear-
streaked and her eyes were wet. She bent near, breathing softly, and
touched her lips to the pale forehead of little Celia.
Then Miss Olaine rose up quickly and stole away from the bed
again. Dorothy almost forgot to breathe steadily. She was amazed
and excited by the actions of the teacher who, heretofore, had
seemed so hard-hearted.
There certainly was what Tavia would have called a “soft streak” in
Miss Olaine. Dorothy was sure that she heard her sobbing as the
teacher opened the door quietly again and stole out.
What did it mean? Had Miss Olaine a personal interest in the little
girl from the “Findling asylum”—the little lost sister of Tom Moran?
Evidently Mrs. Pangborn had told her assistant of the presence in
the school that night of little Celia. Miss Olaine must have a deeper
interest in Tom Moran than the incident of the school building fire
two years before would suggest.

It was a big mystery—a puzzle that Dorothy could not fathom,
though she lay awake a long time trying to do so. Here was another
reason for finding the missing man. Dorothy could not help pitying
Miss Olaine, although the teacher had treated her so harshly for a
fortnight or more.
“Just as Mrs. Pangborn says, we have reason to excuse her
harshness,” thought Dorothy, as usual willing and ready to excuse
other people. “And I’d just love to be the one to clear all the trouble
up both for Miss Olaine and little Celia.
“Finding Tom Moran will bring Celia happiness, I am sure. Now,
would finding him bring happiness to Rebecca Olaine, as well?”
Early in the morning Mrs. Ann Hogan made her appearance at
Glenwood School. But Dorothy and Tavia had got Celia up betimes,
and the three had had their breakfast before the regular breakfast
hour. Tavia always knew how to “get around the cook” and did about
as she pleased with that good soul.
“We’ll just fill Celia up as tight as a little tick,” declared Tavia,
“before that ogress carries her off to her castle again. Oh, Dorothy!
do you suppose that horrid thing will beat poor little Celia?”
“I am sure Mrs. Pangborn will ’tend to that matter,” Dorothy said.
And Mrs. Pangborn did ask Mrs. Hogan into her office before she
had Celia brought in by the girls. It was evident that the dignified
school principal had spoken much to the point to the red-faced Mrs.
Hogan, for the latter was both subdued and nervous when Celia
appeared.
“Celia has certainly done wrong in coming here to find you,
Dorothy,” said Mrs. Pangborn, quietly. “I hope you said nothing to
her which encouraged her to run away?”

“Oh, no, indeed, Mrs. Pangborn!” said Dorothy, while Celia clung
tight about her neck and looked fearfully at her taskmistress.
“Then Mrs. Hogan knows that it was just the child’s longing for
you that brought her here.”
“Sure, the little plague has been talkin’ about Miss Dale all the
time since she was wid us for the week-end,” grumbled Mrs. Hogan.
“Come here, Cely. I’ll not chastise ye this time—but if there’s another
——”
“I am sure there is no need of threatening her,” interposed Mrs.
Pangborn. “Come, Celia!”
The little one unclasped her hands lingeringly from about
Dorothy’s neck.
“Oh, I’ll find some way to see you again, Dorothy Dale,” she
whispered. “For you know they all say——”
“You be good, and I’ll come to see you,” declared Dorothy.
“And so will I,” cried Tavia, almost in tears.
“Yes. You both come. It—it won’t be so bad if I can see you now
and then,” sighed Celia. “And you’ll find Tom Moran?”
“Have done with that fulishness now!” exclaimed Mrs. Hogan. “She
goes on about that brother av hern foriver. Ye’ll niver see him again,
my gur-r-rl.”
“Oh, yes, she shall!” cried Dorothy Dale. “Don’t you fear, Celia. I
shall find him for you.”
Then Mrs. Hogan bore the little one off to her wagon, and they
drove away. It made Dorothy and Tavia feel very sad to see the cute
little thing go off in such a way.

“I am sure that woman abuses her!” cried Tavia.
“Oh, we will hope not. But if only Tom Moran would re-appear,”
sighed Dorothy, “all her troubles would vanish in smoke.”

JavaScript The Web Warrior Series 6th Edition Vodnik Test Bank

CHAPTER XX
BACK TO DALTON
“Dalton! Dalton! Hurrah!”
“Look out—do, Tavia! You’ll be out of the window next.”
“No, I won’t. That isn’t the very next thing I’m going to do.”
“What is ‘next,’ then?”
“Going to hug you!” declared Tavia, and proceeded to put her
threat into execution, smashing Dorothy’s hat down over her eyes,
and otherwise adding to the general “mussed-up condition” resulting
from the long journey from Glenwood to the town which was still
Tavia’s home, and for which Dorothy would always have a soft spot
in her heart.
“Oh, dear me!” gasped Tavia. “It is so delightsome, Doro
Doodlebug, to have you really going home with me to stay at my
house for two whole weeks. It is too good to be true!” and out of
the window her head went again, thrust forth far to see the station
the train was approaching. Dorothy made another frantic grab at her
skirt.
“Do be careful! You’ll knock your silly head off on a telegraph
pole.”
“No loss, according to the opinion of all my friends,” sighed Tavia.
“Do you know the latest definition of ‘a friend’? It’s a person who

stands up for you behind your back and sits down on you hard when
you are in his company.”
The brakes began to grind and Tavia put on her hat and grabbed
her hand baggage.
“Dear old Dalton,” whispered Dorothy, looking through the window
with a mist in her eyes. “What good times we had here when we
were just—just children!”
“Dead oodles of fun!” quoth Tavia. “Come on, Doro. You’ll get
carried past the station and have to walk back from the water-tank.”
But Dorothy was ready to leave in good season. And when the
girls got off the train who should meet them but three smartly-
dressed youngsters who proceeded to greet them with wild yells and
an Indian war dance performed in public on the station platform.
“Oh, Johnny!” gasped Tavia, capturing her own young brother.
“And Joe and Roger!” cried Dorothy. “How did you boys get here
ahead of us? Aren’t you the dears?”
“School closed two days earlier than usual,” explained Joe Dale,
who was now almost as tall as Dorothy and a very manly-looking
fellow.
“Don’t kiss me so much on the street, sister,” begged Roger, under
his breath. “Folks will see.”
“And what if?” demanded Dorothy, laughing.
“They’ll think I’m a little boy yet,” said Roger. “And you know I’m
not.
“No. You are no longer Dorothy’s baby,” sighed the girl. “She’s lost
her two ‘childers’.”

“Never mind, Sis,” sympathized Joe. “You were awful good to us
when we were small. We sha’n’t forget our ‘Little Mum’ right away;
shall we, Rogue?”
“Is that what the other boys call him at school?” demanded
Dorothy, with her arm still around the little fellow.
“Yep,” laughed Joe. “And he is a rogue. You ought to heard him in
class the other day. Professor Brown was giving a nature lesson and
he asked Rogue, ‘How does a bee sting?’ and Roger says, ‘Just
awful!’ What do you think of that?”
“A graduate of the school of experience,” commented Tavia.
“Come on, now, folks. Joe and Roger are staying at our house, too—
for a while.”
She started off, arm in arm with her own brother, and Dorothy
followed with Joe and Roger, the boys carrying all “the traps,” as
Johnny called the baggage.
The present home of the Travers family was much different from
that home as introduced to my readers in “Dorothy Dale: A Girl of
To-day”; for although Mrs. Travers would never be a model
housekeeper, the influence of Tavia was felt in the home even when
she was away at school.
Mr. Travers, too, had succeeded in business and was not only an
officer in the town, and of political importance, but he was
interested in a construction company, and the family was prospering.
Mrs. Travers realized the help and stimulation Dorothy had given
to Tavia, and she welcomed her daughter’s friend very warmly. Tavia
“took hold” immediately and straightened up the house and seized
the reins of government. Tavia was proud and she did not wish
Dorothy to see just how “slack” her mother still was in many ways.

Her own dainty room she shared with Dorothy; and while the
latter was going about, calling on old friends, during the first two
days, Tavia worked like a Trojan to make the whole house spick and
span.
“It’s worth a fortune to have you around the house again,
Daughter,” declared Mr. Travers.
“All right, Squire,” she said, laughingly giving him his official title.
“When I get through at Glenwood I reckon I’ll have to be your
housekeeper altogether—eh?”
“And will you be content to come home and stay?” he asked her,
pinching the lobe of her ear.
“Why not?” she demanded, cheerfully.
“But if Dorothy goes to college——?”
“I can’t have Dorothy always. I wish I could,” sighed Tavia. “But I
know, as Grandma Potter says, ‘Every tub must stand on its own
bottom.’ I have got to learn to get along without Dorothy some
time.”
But that night, when she and her chum had gone to bed, she
suddenly put both arms around Dorothy and hugged her—hard.
“What is it, dear?” asked Dorothy, sleepily.
“Oh, dear Dorothy Dale!” whispered Tavia. “I hope we marry twins
—you and I. Then we needn’t be separated—much.”
“Marry twins? Mercy!”
“I mean, each of us a twin—twins that belong together,” explained
Tavia. “Then we needn’t be so far apart.”

“What a girl you are, Tavia!” laughed Dorothy, kissing her. “Why,
we won’t have to think about the possibility of our having a chance
to be married——”
“Mercy!” chuckled Tavia, recovering herself. “What an elongated
sentence you’re fixin’ up.”
“Where—where was I?” murmured Dorothy.
“Never mind, Doro. The man who marries either of us will have to
agree to let us live right next door to each other. Isn’t that right?”
“Oh, more than that,” agreed Dorothy. “He’ll have to agree that we
shall be together most of the time anyway. But don’t worry. I think
seriously of being a she philanthropist, and of course no man will
want to marry me then.”
“And I’ll be a—a policewoman—or a doctress,” gasped Tavia.
“Either job will drive ’em away.”
“And—Bob—is—coming—to-morrow,” yawned Dorothy, and the
next minute was asleep.
Before the boys came, however, Dorothy and Tavia went to see
Sarah Ford. And it was on the way back that they had their
adventure with the ox-cart. Of course, it was Tavia’s fault; but the
young man driving the oxen had such a good-natured smile, and
such red hair, and so many freckles——
“No use!” Tavia declared. “I felt just like going up to him on the
spot and calling him ‘brother.’ I know the boys must always have
called him ‘Bricktop,’ or ‘Reddy’—and I’m Reddy’s brother, sure,”
touching her own beautiful ruddy hair. “How I did hate to be called
‘Carrots’ when I went to Miss Ellis’s school, Doro.”
But this isn’t the story of the ox-cart ride. The cart was full of hay
—up to the high sides of it. There were a couple of bags of feed,

too.
“Oh, I ought to know him,” Tavia assured Dorothy. “He’s working
for my father. I remember the old cart. They are digging away the
top of Longreach Hill. Say! couldn’t we ride?”
“Of course, Miss,” said the red-headed and good-natured young
man. “Whaw, Buck! Back, Bright!” He snapped his long whiplash in
front of the noses of the great black steers. They stopped almost
instantly, and in a moment Tavia wriggled herself in upon the hay
from behind, and gave her hand to Dorothy to help her in, too.
“Oh! isn’t this fun?” gasped Tavia, snuggling down in the sweet-
smelling hay, while the span of big beasts swung forward on the
road again.
“We’re too big to play at such games, I s’pose,” said Dorothy, but
her friend interrupted with:
“Wait, for mercy’s sake, till we’re graduated. I’m afraid you’re
going to be a regular poke before long, Doro. Ugh! wasn’t that a
thank-you-ma’am? Just see their broad backs wag from side to side.
Why! they’re as big as elephants!”
“Suppose they should run away?” murmured Dorothy.
But neither believed that was really possible. Only, it was
deliciously exciting to think of careening down the hill behind the
great steers, with no red-headed young man to snap his whip and
cry:
“Hawther, Bright! Come up, Buck!”
On the brow of Longreach Hill the red-headed young man stopped
the oxen. It was a steep pitch just before them—then a long slant to
the shallows of the river—quite half a mile from the hilltop to the
river’s edge.

Somebody shouted and beckoned the driver of the oxen away
before he could help the girls out of the cart.
“Wait a moment, ladies,” he begged, with a smile, and hurried to
assist in the moving of a heavy slab of rock.
It was then three youths came running out of the grove, waving
their hats and sticks.
“Oh, look who has come!” cried Tavia, seizing Dorothy’s arm.
“Ned and Nat—and there’s Bob, of course,” laughed Dorothy.
“What did I tell you, lady?”
A dog ran behind the boys—a funny, long bodied, short-legged
dog. He cavorted about as gracefully as an animated sausage.
“Look at the funny dog!” gasped Tavia, immediately appearing to
lose her interest in the three collegians. “Is that a dachshund? Oh-o-
o!”
Her scream was reasonable. The dog leaped in front of the steers’
noses. The huge creatures snorted, swung the cart-tongue around,
and lurched forward down the steep descent!
The girls could not get out then. The road was too rocky. The
oxen were really running away. Their tails stiffened out over the
front board of the cart and the cart itself bounded in the air so that
the passengers could only cling and scream.
They were having quite all the excitement even Tavia craved,
thank you!

CHAPTER XXI
“THAT REDHEAD”
“To look at those beasts,” Tavia said, ruefully, and some time after
the event, “you wouldn’t think they could run at all.”
Certainly a pair of steers tipping the scales at a ton and a half
each did not look like racing machines. But they proved to be that as
they thundered down hill.
Had one of them fallen on the way we shrink from thinking of the
result—to the two girls in the cart. The long, lingering dog that had
started the trouble was left far behind. The three collegians who had
come over the hill to surprise the girls, could not gain a yard in the
race. As for “that redhead” who had governed the steers before they
ran, he just missed the rear of the cart and he followed it down the
steep grade with an abandon that was worthy of a better end.
For he couldn’t catch it; and had he been able to, what advantage
would it have given him?
When a span of steers wish to run away, and decide upon running
away, and really get into action, nothing but a ten-foot stone wall
will stop them. And there was no wall at hand.
The great wheels bounced and the cart threatened to turn over at
every revolution of the wheels; Tavia screamed intermittently;
Dorothy held on grimly and hoped for the best.

The steers kept right on in a desperately grim way, their tails still
stiffened. They reached the bottom of the hill and were at the very
verge of the sloping bank into the shallows of the river.
A suicidal mania seemed to have gained possession of their bovine
minds. They cared nothing for themselves, for the wagon, or for the
passengers in that wagon. Into the river they plunged. The wabbling
cart rolled after them until the water rose more than hub high.
And then the oxen halted abruptly, both lowered their noses a
little, and both began to drink!
“Such excitement over an old drink of water!” gasped Tavia, and
then fell completely into the hay and could not rise for laughing.
“Do—do you suppose they ran down here—like that—just to get a
drink?” demanded Dorothy. “Why—why I was scared almost to
death!”
“Me, too; we could have been killed just as easy, whether the
oxen were murderously inclined or as playful as kittens. Ugh! that
redhead!”
“It wasn’t his fault,” said Dorothy.
“He never should have left us alone with them.”
“It was that dog did it,” declared Dorothy.
“Don’t matter who did it. The dog was funny enough looking to
scare ’em into fits,” giggled Tavia. “Here he comes again. Oh, I hope
the oxen don’t see him.”
“Yet you blame the young man with the—light hair,” hesitated
Dorothy. “Here he comes now.”

The excited young man with the flame-colored tresses was ahead
of the three collegians. He leaped right into the water and called to
the girls to come to the back of the cart.
“’Tis no knowing when them ugly bastes will take it inter their
heads to start ag’in,” he declared, holding his strong arms to
Dorothy. “Lemme carry ye ashore out o’ harm’s way, Miss.”
Dorothy trusted herself to him at once. But the boys were not to
be outdone in this act of gallantry—at least, one of them was not.
Bob Niles rushed right into the water and grabbed Tavia, whether
she wanted to be “rescued” or not.
“Bob, my dear boy,” said Tavia, in her most grown-up manner,
“don’t stub your poor little piggy-wiggies and send us both splash
into the water. That would be too ridiculous.”
“I shall bear you safely ashore, Tavia—no fear,” he grunted.
“Whew! You’ve been putting on flesh, I declare, since New Year’s,”
he added.
“Pounds and pounds,” she assured him. “Now, up the bank, little
boy.”
Dorothy was already deposited in safety and her cousins were
taking their turns in “saluting her on both cheeks;” but when Bob
tried to take toll from Tavia in that way she backed off, threatening
him with an upraised hand.
“You are no cousin—make no mistake on that point, sir,” she
declared.
“Huh! I ought to have some reward for saving you from a watery
grave,” said Bob, sheepishly.
“Charge it, please,” lisped Tavia. “There are some debts I never
propose to pay till I get ready.”

But she, like Dorothy, was unfeignedly glad to see the three young
men again. While they chattered with Ned, and Nat, and Bob, the
red-haired young man got his oxen and the cart out of the river and
guided the animals back toward the hill.
There came on a dog-trot from the scene of the excavating
operations a fat, puffy man, who snatched the whip out of redhead’s
hand and proceeded to administer a tongue lashing, part of which
the girls and their companions overheard.
“Oh! he doesn’t deserve that,” said Dorothy, mildly. “It wasn’t his
fault.”
“He shouldn’t have left us alone in the cart,” pouted Tavia. “That’s
Mr. Simpson, one of father’s foremen. Let him be. A scolding never
killed anybody yet—otherwise, how would I have survived Olaine
this term?”
Dorothy was not quite satisfied, but she was overborne by her
companions to go back to town and so did not see the end of the
controversy between the foreman and “That Redhead” as Tavia
insisted on calling the ox-team driver. Besides, Tavia acknowledged a
cut she had received on her arm by being banged about in the ox-
cart.
“You’d better hurry home and put some disinfectant on it,” advised
Nat, who always had serious interest in Tavia’s well-being.
“Huh!” said Tavia, hotly, “I’m not a kitchen sink, I hope. If you
mean antiseptic, say so.”
“Wow!” cried Ned. “Our Tavia has become a purist.”
“Oh, dear, that’s worse!” declared Tavia. “Come on, Doro, I don’t
like these boys any more. I am going to become a man-hater,
anyway, I think. They’re always underfoot—— Oh! what a cute dog
you’ve got, Ned.”

“’Tain’t mine,” said Ned. “It’s Nat’s.”
“But he seems a long way from his head to his tail for a short-
legged beast,” observed Dorothy.
“That’s some dog, let me tell you,” Nat declared, stoutly. “He’s a
real German dachshund.”
“I thought he looked like an animated sausage,” declared Tavia,
stooping to pet the animal. The creature stood very still while she
patted his sleek coat, only blinking his big, soft brown eyes.
“He isn’t very sociable, I don’t think,” grumbled Tavia.
“Of course he is,” said Nat. “He’s as good-natured as he can be.”
“How are you going to tell? He doesn’t wag his tail when you pat
him on the head—see there!”
“Aw, give him time,” laughed Ned. “Don’t you know it takes a
dachshund several minutes to transmit ecstacy along the line to the
terminus?”
They went along to Tavia’s house gaily. The boys remained to
supper, and it was only after that comfortable meal, and while the
boys were in Mr. Travers’ “office,” where he smoked his evening pipe,
the girls being busy clearing the table and washing dishes, that Nat
sang out:
“Hi, Doro! did you hear about your redhead?”
“What about him?” cried Dorothy and Tavia.
“Mr. Travers says he got the G. B. after letting those oxen run
away.”
“Oh, never!” cried Tavia, coming to the door.

“You were sore on him yourself, Tavia,” reminded Bob Niles.
“But you didn’t discharge him, Father?” questioned the tender-
hearted girl.
“No. It was Simpson. But I could not very well interfere,” said Mr.
Travers.
“Why not? It wasn’t fair!” urged Tavia.
“I am sure Simpson knows best. Though I liked Tom,” said her
father. “I cannot interfere between the foreman and the men. If I did
I’d soon have neither overseers nor workmen, but a strike on my
hands,” and he laughed.
“I think it is too bad, sir,” said Dorothy, gravely. “Really, it was not
his fault at all that we were run away with.”
“He left you alone with the beasts,” Ned declared.
“He was called by those other men to help,” Tavia retorted.
“Well, he’s gone, I fear,” said Mr. Travers, shaking his head.
“Not out of town, father?”
“I reckon so. Tom comes and goes. He is a good man, although
he’s young; but he’s unsettled. Lots of these workmen are. They go
from place to place. He is fit to take charge himself, I believe, of a
steel construction gang; but, as the boys say, ‘something got his
goat.’ He doesn’t work at his trade any more. It is a dangerous
trade, and he probably had an accident——”
“Steel construction—bridge building, do you mean, sir?” asked
Dorothy, suddenly.
“Why, yes—I suppose so.”

“And he is red-haired!” gasped Dorothy. “Oh, what’s his name, Mr.
Travers?”
“Tom Moran; he’s worked for me before—”
“Oh, Doro!” cried Tavia.
“Oh, Tavia!” echoed Dorothy.

CHAPTER XXII
ON THE TRAIL
“It seems almost impossible that a man with such a red head
could so completely drop out of sight,” sighed Tavia the next day.
The boys had just combed Dalton “with a fine-toothed comb” for
the elusive Tom Moran, and had bagged nothing. He had gone—
vamoosed—disappeared—winked out; all these synonyms were
Tavia’s. The girls had discussed the disappearance until there
seemed nothing more to be said.
“We don’t really know that he was Celia’s big brother,” said
Dorothy, reflectively. “But it seems very probable. Even your father
knew that he was a bridge builder.”
“But we didn’t,” snapped Tavia. “Who expected to find a structural
ironworker driving a yoke of steers?”
“And such steers,” sighed Dorothy, for she had scarcely gotten
over the scare of that perilous ride.
Everybody about town knew by this time that the red-haired
young man who had worked in Simpson’s gang was wanted by
Dorothy Dale. Dorothy had more friends in Dalton than anywhere
else. Indeed, she could well claim every respectable member of the
community, save the nursing babies, as her own particular friend.
With so many people on the lookout for a trace of Tom Moran,
therefore, it was no wonder that Dorothy and her friends were

running down possible clues all day long.
The second morning news came from a farmer out on the
Fountainville Road. Ned and Nat had come down to Dalton in their
Firebird, and they got the motorcar out of the garage at once and
brought it around to give the girls a ride to Farmer Prater’s house.
“He’s been losing chickens,” said Ned, as they all scrambled in.
“And he telephoned in something about a red-headed man he had
hired, named Moran, having a fight in the night with a band of
chicken thieves in an automobile. What do you know about that?”
“Sounds crazy enough,” said Tavia, tartly.
“All right. Your father’s sent a constable out to see about it, just
the same. And there aren’t two red-headed men named Moran
wandering about the county, I am sure.”
“But I don’t believe Celia’s brother would rob a henroost,” said
Dorothy.
“Oh, fudge!” exclaimed Nat. “Listen to the girl? Who said he did?”
“Well! wasn’t there something about chicken stealing in what Ned
said? Oh! I almost lost my hat that time. What a jolty road.”
“Look out or you’ll lose your name and number both on this
stretch of highway. Can’t the old Firebird spin some?”
“Such flowers of rhetoric,” sighed Tavia. “‘Spin some’ is beautiful.”
“Lots you know about flowers of any kind, Miss Travers,” teased
Nat.
“I know all about flowers—especially of speech,” returned Tavia,
tossing her head. “I can even tell you the favorite flowers of the
various States and countries——”

“England?” shouted Nat.
“Primroses,” returned Tavia, promptly, unwilling to be caught.
“France?” questioned Bob.
“Lilies.”
“Scotland?” asked Dorothy, laughing.
“Ought to be a beard of oats, but it’s the thistle,” said Tavia,
promptly.
“Ireland?” demanded Ned, without turning from his steering
wheel.
“Shamrock, of course.”
“Got you!” ejaculated Nat. “What’s Spain’s favorite?”
“Oh-oh-oh—— Bulrushes, I s’pect,” said Tavia, having the words
jolted out of her. “Bull-fights, anyway. Dear, dear me! we might as
well travel over plowed ground.”
They struck a better automobile road on the Fountainville
turnpike, and before long they came in sight of Farmer Prater’s
house. Oddly enough there was a gray and yellow automobile under
one of the farmer’s sheds.
The farmer was in high fettle, it proved, and willing enough to talk
about the raid the night before on his pens of Rhode Island reds.
“Jefers pelters!” he chortled. “I got me pullets back and the
ortermerbile ter boot. D’ye see it? That’s what the raskils come in.”
“Not the red-headed man?” demanded Tavia.

“Who said anything about a red headed—— Oh! you mean Tom
Moran?” asked Mr. Prater. “Why, he warn’t with ’em. If it hadn’t been
for him them raskils would ha’ got erway with my pullets—ya-as, sir-
ree-sir!”
“Where is Tom?” demanded Dorothy.
But Mr. Prater had to tell the story in his own way. And it was an
exciting one—to him! He had been awakened in the early hours of
the morning and had seen an automobile standing in the road. Then
he heard a squawking in the chicken pens. He had valuable
feathered stock, and he got up in a hurry to learn what was afoot.
But the thieves would have gotten well away with their bags of
feathered loot had it not been for Tom Moran, who was sleeping for
the night in Farmer Prater’s barn.
“That red-headed feller is as smart as a steel trap,” said the
farmer, admiringly. “I’ve been at him every time I’m in Dalton to
come an’ work for me. But he wouldn’t.”
“What did he do?” asked Dorothy, interested for more reasons
than one in any account of Tom Moran.
“Why, he jumped out of the hay, got ahead of the thieves, and
leaped into their merchine before they reached it. It’s a self-starter—
d’ye see? So he jest teched up the engine button, and started the
merchine to traveling. Them fellers couldn’t git aboard, and they had
to drop the sacks and run. I was right behind ’em with my gun, ye
see, and I’d peppered ’em with rock salt if they hadn’t quit as they
did—— Ya-as, sir-ree-sir!”
“And where did Tom go?” queried Tavia, breathlessly.
“Why, he brought the machine back, eat his breakfast, and went
on his way. He didn’t say where he was goin’. I’ll wait for the owner

of the ortermobile to show up an’ explain about his car, I reckon.
Ain’t no license number on it.”
So that settled this trace of Tom Moran. He had disappeared
again. Nobody near Mr. Prater had observed the red-headed man
when he left for parts unknown. The girls and their friends had lots
of fun scouring the neighboring country in the Firebird; but the
young man whom Dorothy Dale wished to see so very much was as
elusive as a will-o’-the-wisp!
And when they got back to town there was a letter about the very
man himself addressed to the War Cry office, in regard to the
advertisement that Dorothy had caused to be printed in that paper.
The letter had gone to Glenwood and been forwarded to Dalton on
Dorothy’s trail.
The letter was written on dirty paper and in a handwriting that
showed the writer to be a very ignorant person. And it was actually
mailed in Dalton! The girls read it eagerly.
“If you want to knos bout Tom Moran I can tell you all you
want to knos. but I got a be paid for what I knos. hes a many
mils from here. but I can find him if its mad wuth my wile. So
no mor at present Well wisher. p. s.—rite me at Dalton N. York,
name john Smith. Ile get it from genl dlivry.”
“Now, never in the world did that red-haired young man write
such a letter, Doro!” cried Tavia.
“Of course not. It is some bad person who saw the advertisement
and thinks that some money is to be made out of poor Celia’s
brother.”
“And this awful scrawl was written when Tom was right here in
town.”
“Certainly,” agreed Dorothy.

“Yet the writer says he is ‘a many mils from here.’”
“That is why we may be sure that the person writing to me has a
very bad mind and is trying to get money. I am sure Tom Moran
never saw the notice in the War Cry and that he knows nothing
about this letter,” repeated Dorothy.
“Dear me! to be so close on the trail of that redhead—and then to
lose him,” Tavia said despairingly.
“Perhaps this person who wrote the letter knows where he is now.
Yes, it looks reasonable,” said Dorothy, reflectively. “You see,
believing as he does that somebody will pay money to find Tom
Moran, he will likely keep in touch with Celia’s brother.”
“I see!” cried Tavia. “I see what you are driving at. Aren’t you
smart, Doro Dale? The way to do, then, is for us to find this John
Smith—— But how will you do it?”
“How?”
“Of course that isn’t his name. I don’t believe there is a John
Smith in Dalton.”
“Perhaps not. Although John Smiths aren’t uncommon,” laughed
Dorothy. “But we know that is the name in which he’ll ask for his
mail. Now, why not keep watch——”
“Better than that!” gasped Tavia. “Let’s tell Mr. Somes, the
postmaster, and have him set a watch upon whoever gets a letter for
John Smith.”
“But where’ll he get a letter—if I don’t write him?” demanded
Dorothy.
“Of course, you’ll write him. Write now. Make him think you are
going to ‘bite’ on his offer.”

“But I don’t intend to pay any great sum for finding Tom Moran—
though I’d be willing to if I had it.”
“We can fool him; can’t we?” demanded Tavia. “He is evidently
trying to over-reach Tom and you both. Let the biter be bitten,” said
Tavia, gaily. “Come on, Doro! Write the letter.”

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