"Nothing but a dog."
"Nonsense."
"I say it is." Tom began to whistle. "Come here, old boy," he went on. "Good dog, come here."
At this, the animal stopped crunching the bone and came forward slowly and suspiciously. It was indeed a large, black dog, with curly hair and lean sides.
"Hullo!" cried Sam. "Come here, that's a good dog. Say, fellows, he looks half starved."
"Are you sure it ain't no catpob?" queried Hans anxiously.
"Yes, Hans," answered Songbird. "He is nothing but a dog, and rather friendly at that."
The dog came closer, wagging his tail slowly and suspiciously. Dick put out his hand and patted him, and then he waved his tail in a vigorous fashion.
"He is willing enough to be friends," said the eldest Rover. "I shouldn't be surprised if he is homeless."
"In that case, we might adopt him," said Tom, who loved a nice dog.