These he took, hungrily, and ate them in the forest before returning to school. He had never felt so kindly toward school as this afternoon. Were it not for what he learned there, he could not have read the words in the Book of Life; and although they had brought him into trouble, he would not have foregone the wonder of seeing the living, burning characters which his father could not perceive. He longed to open those dusty covers once again.
On his way home that afternoon he met two boys teasing a small brown dog. Its coat was stuck full of burrs and it tried in vain to escape from its tormentors. The boys stopped to let Gabriel go by, for they had a wholesome respect for his strong right arm and they knew his love for animals. The trembling little dog looked at him in added fear.
Gabriel stood still. "Will you give me that dog?" he asked.
The boys backed away with their prize. "Nothing for nothing," said the taller, who had the animal under his arm. "What'll you give us?"
Gabriel thought. Never lived a boy with fewer possessions. Ah! He suddenly remembered a whistle he had made yesterday. Diving his hand into his pocket he brought it out and whistled a lively strain upon it.
"This," he said, approaching. "I'll give you this."
"That for one of us," replied the tall boy. "What for the other?"
From the moment the dog heard Gabriel's voice, its eyes had appealed to him. Now it struggled to get free, and the big boy struck it. Its cry sharpened Gabriel's wits.
"The other shall have a penny," he said, and drew Mother Lemon's coin out of his blouse.
The big boy dropped the dog, and he and his companion struggled for the coin, each willing the other should have the whistle. Gabriel lost no time in catching up the dog and making off with it.