“That’s it!” squealed the Doctor. “That’s the very song—and look at my fur! It will take a dip in cold water to smooth it again.” He was as fluffy as Tad Coon’s tail. “Now, Watch, what’s your song?”
“Oh, I’m no regular kind of a dog, so I really haven’t any,” said Watch, looking a bit regretful. “I just do—whatever I’m told the best I can and”—here his ears pricked and his tail began to wag—“I look after Tommy Peele.”
“But why must you always do things?” said Nibble.
“Why, everyone has to have a job of some kind,” said Trailer. “Or else he’s a worthless old scrump not worth feeding. And, if it’s really your own special job, you enjoy doing it. I love to hunt, but I wouldn’t care much about driving cows.”
“Sure you would if you learned how,” said Watch. “I really do.”
“There, you see?” laughed Trailer. And Nibble nodded.
“Speaking of driving cows,” smiled Trailer, “who do you think drove up to Tommy Peele’s this morning?” He said it to tease Watch. He and Watch had gone out before daybreak to hunt Silvertip and now it was way past milking time.
But Watch wasn’t teased a bit.
“The cows slept in the barn,” he grinned. “Nobody had to drive them—so there! The only job I have waiting for me right now is to clean up my breakfast plate before Chirp Sparrow gets his scratchy little feet into it.”
Trailer forgot all about how tired he was. “Fine,” said he. “I’m ready to help you.” And off they trotted with their tails waving.