It was far from a cheerful noise that he made, for he only succeeded in giving a mournful howl. And that sad sound made Spot gloomier than ever.
"Well," he muttered, "there's nothing else to do, so I'll go and dig up that bone that I buried in the orchard last week."
He found the bone where he had hidden it. Yet it did not look half as inviting as it had when he covered it with dirt a few days before. He stared at it dully. Then he put it back in its hole and pawed the dirt over it again.
He found no pleasure in anything. No longer was there any fun in chasing woodchucks. The cows might have stayed in the cornfield all day long and Spot wouldn't have bothered them. He didn't even get any sport out of teasing Miss Kitty Cat.
Strangest of all, he couldn't find any comfort in lying down for a quiet nap. The moment he tried to pass the time away in that fashion he began to think about Johnnie Green and what a nice boy he was. And then he would get up and walk around and around the house. Hour after hour Spot spent in that fashion.
It wasn't many days before he had worn a path in the grass all the way around the farmhouse. When Farmer Green noticed it he didn't scold Spot. He patted his head and said, "Cheer up, old boy! Johnnie'll be back one of these days."
Old dog Spot wagged his tail feebly. But it was hard to wait.
"It wouldn't be so bad," he said to himself, "if there was only somebody to play with. If there was a puppy here on the farm I'd have some one that would be ready to romp whenever I felt like it. And then Johnnie could go away visiting every summer and I wouldn't miss him half as much."
Spot forgot that a puppy wouldn't stay a puppy forever.