“P-p-poke him with your pole,” says he.
I knew what he wanted—it was to have the dog rear up so he could toss the noose over its body, and I got my pole. The dog seemed to be real interested in me and showed his teeth. When I shoved the pole at him he just rose right up and announced himself, and his announcement wasn’t friendly to me. I jerked back the pole, and he stood on his hind legs to reach it. Then Mark Tidd threw his lasso. The first shot he made it. The noose plopped down over Mr. Doggie’s fore legs and head and was jerked tight around his ribs. You never saw an animal look so surprised as he did just as Mark flopped him over. From the ground he looked around at me sort of surprised and hurt, as much as to say I didn’t play fair. Well, I thought, neither did he. He’d bite, and I wouldn’t.
Mark fastened the rope, and we all got down. I was glad it was a strong rope, for that bulldog acted like he’d have busted one just a little weaker. He did his best, and we couldn’t expect any more of him than that. My! how he pulled and jerked! We were sorry to leave him fastened up, but there wasn’t any other way out of it, so we said good-by to him as politely as we could and went out of the farm-yard.
“Milk,” says Collins, “and pie. Um! Good, weren’t they? Let’s stop at every farm-house we see.”
Jiggins and Mark hadn’t a word to say.
I lagged behind, and pretty soon Mark dropped back with me.
“What d’you think I found in that barn?” I says.
“Rope,” says he. “That’s what you went a-after.”
“I found somethin’ else.”
“Well,” says he, “what was it?”