At the first words the dog hopped up briskly, and began to caress his master, frisking and barking to express his delight, and disporting himself as only a pet dog can.
It is conjectured that our young readers may be curious to know what species of dog this was. Alas! it is impossible to inform them. Neither his master Stephen nor any other person in the village could affirm positively to what particular species Tip belonged, but all agreed that he was a dog of some sort. This much, however, is known concerning him: He was of medium size and of divers colors, black and white predominating, a universal favorite with all the heroes and heroines of this history.
“Eh, Tip, are you glad to see me? Shall we have some sport? What do you say to a run in the road?”
By way of answer, the dog seized his master’s pants with his sharp teeth, and tugged playfully at them, his way of angling for sport.
“I guess you’ll do, Tip. You’ve got lots of fun in you, if I can keep you going;” and Steve swung open the gate of the school-grounds and passed out with a chuckle, Tip hard at his heels.
Then this giddy-headed boy and his unsuspecting dog turned a corner of the fence, found themselves in a dusty and unfrequented lane, and prepared for action.
“Now, Tip,” said the young rascal, “if we can make you run up and down this lane till you get all covered with dust, and dirt, and slobber, our fortune’ll be made! Come on, Tip; we shan’t need any white-wash nor any paint. Eh, Tip?”
Going on a little farther, till they reached the river, this wicked boy incited his dog to plunge headlong into the water after sticks and stones. Then, returning to the lane, he urged the wet dog to course up and down in the midst of the dust—sometimes after sticks, sometimes after himself. The playful dog enjoyed the sport, and entered into it fully. Soon he presented a woful appearance, but Steve unpityingly spurred him on till he began to pant hard.
“Good!” cried he. “Pant away, Tip, and get yourself well covered with slobber. That’s it! Run, now,—fetch him, Tip; go for him. There, roll in the dust!”
Thus he continued, till the poor dog was fagged out. Then Stephen, even Stephen, relented, and thought seriously of giving up his proposed experiment.