“Oh, don’t let the bear chew Peter’s legs,” cried David, leaning over close to Joel’s face; “then Peter can’t run away.”
“I’m not going to have Peter run away,” declared Joel, bobbing his black head decidedly.
“Oh, yes, I will, too,” he cried joyfully, and clapping his hands. “I’ll have the bear chew him a little on one leg, and then when Peter runs, the bear can chase him, and chew him on the other, and—”
“Joel,” exclaimed David, with very red cheeks, “I think that bear is a bad old bear, and I don’t like him.”
“And then he can chew Peter all up, every teenty speck,” cried Joel, with sparkling eyes. “Yes sir!” smacking his lips.
David tumbled quickly off from the bed, and made for the stairs. “I’m not going to stay here, if you have Peter chewed up,” he declared, his blue eyes flashing.
“Dave, don’t go.” Up went Joel’s head from the pillow, “I won’t let him be chewed up. You can have that bear for your own. Don’t go, Dave.”
“Can I have him for my very own?” asked David, drawing near the bed.
“Yes, you may,” promised Joel, swallowing hard, “if you’ll come back.”
“I sha’n’t let Peter be chewed up,” said Davie, clambering on to his old place on the bed once more, “and I sha’n’t have him shoot the bear either.”