“I ain’t got their dog,” mumbled Black Bobby, and he started to shuffle away.
“Just a minute now! Wait!” commanded Mr. Ward so sharply that Black Bobby turned and halted.
“Whut yo’ all want?” he asked, in a cross voice.
“We want to see that dog you say you found,” answered Mr. Ward. “He may be Patter, the trick dog that belongs to Bunny and Sue here. And if it’s their dog they can take it.”
“’Tain’t their dog and they can’t have it!” snapped Black Bobby. “This dog don’t do any tricks.”
“Our dog does!” declared Sue, who was keeping close to Mr. Ward, for she was a little afraid of Black Bobby, not because his face was black, but because he seemed so unpleasant.
“Our dog does lots of tricks,” added Bunny.
Black Bobby stood sullenly, digging one toe of his black foot into the sand. He looked up and down the street as if getting ready to run away, but as at one end of the street he saw a policeman and as Mr. Ward stood ready to grab him if he tried to dart off, Black Bobby seemed to think better of his idea of escaping.
“This dog I got, he ain’t no trick dog,” said the colored boy.
“Well, we’ll take a look at him and make sure,” said Mr. Ward. “Where is he, Bobby? Now don’t try to fool me,” he added sharply. “I know you and you know me. And if I were to tell the police who broke windows in the old factory, why, maybe, Bobby, they might come looking for you, the police might. Where’s the dog you found?”