“Call off yer dog, an’ I’ll show yer.”
These words made Tim feel very much braver, for they showed that the speaker as well as himself was frightened, and he lost no time in reducing Tip to a state of subjection by clasping him firmly around the neck.
“Now come out; he wouldn’t hurt a fly, an’ it’s only his way to bark when he’s kinder scared.”
Thus urged, the party afraid of the dog came out of his place of hiding, which was none other than the branches of a tree, by simply dropping to the ground—a proceeding which gave another shock to the nerves of both Tim and Tip.
But there was nothing about him very alarming, and when Tim had a full view of him, he was inclined to be angry with himself for having allowed so short a boy to frighten him. He was no taller than Tim and, as near as could be seen in the dim light, about as broad as he was long—a perfect ball of jelly, with a face, two legs, and two arms carved on it.
It was impossible to gain a good view of his face, but that did not trouble Tim, who was only anxious to learn who this boy was, and whether he might be sufficiently acquainted with Captain Babbige to send him news of the runaway.
The new-comer did not appear to be in any hurry to begin the conversation, but stood, with his hands in his pockets, eying Tim as though he was some strange animal who might be expected to cut up queer antics at any moment.
“Hullo!” said Tim, after he thought the fat boy had looked at him quite as long as was necessary.
“Hullo!” was the reply.
“Where did you come from?”