As he inserted one of the keys into the lock, a loud bay of welcome arose from the inside, and when he opened the door, Bugle, the finest fox-hound that had ever been seen about Eaton, crawled out from his warm bed under the work-bench, and after lazily stretching himself, jumped up and placed his forepaws on his master's shoulders.
Bugle was a well-trained hunting-dog, and so fond was he of following his favorite game that his master was obliged to lock him up in the shop every morning.
The hound would stay about the house in perfect contentment so long as Oscar was there; but when the latter went to school or to the store, Bugle would soon grow lonely, and then he would hunt the town over to find someone with a gun on his shoulder.
If he succeeded in his object, he would stick close to that man's side, and if the man went to the woods, Bugle would go also, and run foxes for him with as much zeal and perseverance as he exhibited in working for his master.
If he could not find anyone who was going hunting, he would start out alone, and sometimes he would be gone two or three days.
He could not hunt foxes to any advantage by himself, for there was need for someone to stand on the runways and shoot the game as it passed; but sometimes he succeeded in digging a hare out of a rotten log in which it had taken refuge, and he always brought the game home to show that his day's work had not been thrown away.
Oscar did not like this roving disposition on the part of his favorite, and, as two or three attempts had been made to steal the hound, he thought it best to keep him under lock and key.
Oscar's work-shop was a clean, well-lighted apartment, and in it the boy had spent many a stormy Saturday while he was a student at the high school; but since he had been employed in the store, he had done but little work there, for his time was fully occupied from seven in the morning until nine and sometimes ten o'clock at night.
He was glad to find himself there once more, for he felt as if he were among friends from whom he had long been separated.
The side of the room opposite the door was occupied by a carpenter's bench, on which were several specimens of Oscar's handiwork, such as jointed bass-rods, models of yachts (both sloop- and schooner-rigged), and also a neat little centre-table, which needed only the staining and polishing to make it ready to take its place in his mother's sitting room.