But Joel didn't even hear him, being occupied in setting the dog on the ground to try his paces.
“No, he's not hurt, after all, I guess,” he decided, “but look at his ribs,—he's half starved.”
“I don't want to look at them,” said Percy, turning his back, “and you ought to let him alone; that bell will ring in half a second, Joel Pepper!”
“True enough!” cried Joel. “Come on, Perky,” this being the school name of the older Whitney, and he picked up the dog, and shot off.
“What are you going to do with that dog?” yelled Percy after him. But as well talk to the wind, as Joel arrived hot and breathless at the big door long before him.
Luckily for him, none of the boys were about; and Joel, cramming the dog well under his jacket, plunged up the stairs, and down the hall to his room.
“Joe!” roared two or three voices; but he turned a deaf ear, and got in safely; slammed to the door, and then drew a long breath.
“Whew! Almost caught that time,” was all he had the wind to say. “Well, now, it's good Dave isn't in, 'cause I can tell him slowly, and get him used to it.” All this time he was drawing out his dog from its place of refuge, and putting it first on the bed, then on the floor, to study it better.
It certainly was as far removed from being even a good-looking dog as possible. Having never in its life had the good fortune to hear its pedigree spoken of, it was simply an ill-favored cur that looked as if it had exchanged the back yard of a tenement house for the greater dangers of the open street. Its yellow neck was marked where a cruel cord had almost worn into the flesh, and every one of its ribs stuck out as Joel had said, till they insisted on being counted by a strict observer.
Joel threw his arms around the beast. “Oh dear!” he groaned, “you're starved to death. What have I got to give you?” He wrinkled his forehead in great distress. “Oh goody!” He snatched the dog up, and bore him to the closet, then pulled down a box from the shelf above. “Mamsie's cake—how prime!” And not stopping to cut a piece, he broke off a goodly wedge. “Now then, get in with you,” and he thrust him deep into one corner, cramming the cake up to his nose. “Stay there on my side, and don't get over on Dave's shoes. Whee!”