“Boys, be quiet. Mrs. Fox's cat has got up here, probably,” said the instructor. But the boy in the bed protested that it wasn't a cat that had waked him up by thrusting a cold nose in his face, and jumping on top of him. And he huddled worse than ever now that it was under him; yet afraid to step out on the floor.
Even the instructor did not offer to look under the bed, when Joel Pepper rushed in, his black eyes gleaming. “Oh, it's my dog!” he cried.
“It's Joe Pepper's dog!” cried the whole roomful, nearly tumbling over each other.
“And when did you begin to keep a dog, Joel Pepper?” hurled the instructor at him, too angry for anything, that he hadn't impressed the boys with his courage.
But Joel was occupied in ramming his body under the bed as far as possible. “Here, Sinbad,” and he presently emerged with a very red face, and Sinbad safely in his arms, who seemed perfectly delighted to get into his old refuge again. David had now joined the group, as much aghast as every other spectator.
“Do you hear me, Joel Pepper?” thundered the instructor again. “When did you get that dog?” This brought Joel to.
“Oh, I haven't had him long, sir,” he said, and trembling for Sinbad, as he felt in every fibre of his being that the beast's fate was sealed, unless he could win over the irritated teacher. “He's a poor dog I—I found, sir,” wishing he could think of the right words, and knowing that every word he uttered only made matters worse.
“David,” cried the instructor, catching Davie's eye, down by the door, “do you know anything about this dog?”
“No, sir,” said David, all in a tremble, and wishing he could say something to help Joel out.
“Well, now, you wait a minute.” The instructor, feeling that here was a chance to impress the boys with his executive ability, looked about over the table where Farnham's schoolbooks were thrown. “Got a bit of string? No—oh, yes. “He pounced on a piece, and came over to Joel and the dog.