Brindle seldom went off the place; but if he saw any other dog trespassing he was very apt to fly at the uninvited visitor. And once the bull’s teeth were clinched in the strange animal’s neck, it took a hot iron to make him loose his hold.
There had been several such unfortunate happenings, and Mrs. White had paid several owners of dogs damages rather than have trouble with the neighbors. She—and even the major—had strong objections to the coming of any other dog upon the place as long as Brindle lived.
So the chance for Joe and Roger to have their request granted was small indeed. Nevertheless, “hope springs eternal,” especially in the breast of a small boy who wants a dog.
“Maybe we can find somebody that’s got a good, trained dog and will sell him to us, Roger,” Joe said, as they set forth from the house.
“But I haven’t got much money—only what’s in the bank, and I can’t get that,” complained Roger.
“You spend all you get for candy,” scoffed Joe. “Now, I’ve got a whole half dollar left of my month’s spending money. But you can’t buy much of a dog for fifty cents.”
“Maybe somebody would give us a dog.”
“And folks don’t give away good dogs, either,” grumbled Joe.
“I tell you!” exclaimed Roger, suddenly. “I saw a stray dog yesterday going down the lane behind our stables.”
“How do you know it was a stray dog?”