“Billy Miles and the other fellows were stoning this poor little chap, and I went for ’em. They chased us into this cellar, and I managed to fasten the door on the inside, for I knew if they once got hold of the dog they would kill it to spite me; so then they fastened the door on the outside and left us there.” Jerry told his story in a few words, stroking the mite of a dog meanwhile.
“How long ago was that?” asked Rock.
“Not long after I came home from school.”
“You’ve had a long wait,” Rock remarked. “I’m glad we found out where to look for you. Now we’ll go along, and I’d like to see those boys bother you.” He threw back his head and there was a resolute look in his eyes.
“They’d better not try it,” said Jerry, looking up confidently into the bigger boy’s face.
“Do let me carry the puppy,” begged Cassy. But the puppy, now that it had escaped from its safe retreat, felt itself to be in the land of the Philistines, and had confidence in no one but the sharer of its imprisonment; therefore Jerry carefully hid it under his jacket, and they traveled back to where Mrs. Law was anxiously watching for them. At Rock’s suggestion they stopped to get some milk for the puppy, and then Rock left them safe at their own door.
“You will let us keep the puppy, won’t you, mother?” the children begged.
“If it should get away, and anything should happen to it, you would grieve for it, and you know those spiteful boys would be only too glad to hurt it,” she told them.
Cassy burst into tears; the evening’s excitement and anxiety had been too much for her.
“How can they be so cruel!” she cried. “What harm could a poor little dog do? If they would only kill it outright it wouldn’t be so bad, but to stone it and make it suffer for days is so dreadfully, dreadfully wicked.” She crouched down on the floor where the little dog was hungrily lapping its milk, and her tears fell on the rough gray coat, as she tenderly stroked the little creature.