"Mrs. Devering will settle her," said Barklo as we trudged along. "Oh! how glad I am to get home. How glad, how glad! No one knows how hard it is for a dog to do his duty."
"You'll appreciate your home all the more for having done your duty," I said.
Barklo didn't hear me. He was leaping to meet Champ who was coming up from the wharf carrying some rowlocks in his hand.
Champ embraced him, then turned to his sister and brothers who were alone now, the widow having gone trotting up to the veranda where she saw Mrs. Devering sitting; the lamb, after a glance at her, trailing happily after the dog.
The boy was annoyed, and Dovey said, "What's fretting you?"
"Big Chief sent me for these," he said, jingling the rowlocks. "He promised them to Mr. Talker for his boat. Why didn't he get them himself? I'm not his slave!"
This was enough for the young ones, and they started another indignation meeting, finally agreeing that they would not wait on their big brother any more. The next time he gave an order they would turn on him.
"He'll strike you," remarked Big Wig cheerfully.
"Let him strike," said Champ. "We'll strike back. He's getting too big for his boots. I wish Dad would lick him."