There was a great noise of talking and shouting orders, and one big man, with tiny corkscrew curls of very black hair and silver rings in his ears and a coat of faded velveteen, stood close by the carrier's waggon and ordered others to do his bidding.
Pat was broad awake now, and when the carrier, seeing they would have to wait awhile, took out a lunch of bread and meat and began to cut it with a pocket knife, the dog stood on his hind legs and begged in his most insinuating way.
"He's as smart as his master," said the carrier, laughing, while the gipsy-like man turned and glanced keenly at the van.
"Does he know any more tricks?" asked one of the boys eagerly.
Dick bent down and whispered something to Pat, and he threw back his head, half shut his eyes, and gave vent to a succession of shrill howls that were the best music his voice was capable of, while his master whistled the air of "Killarney" as an accompaniment.
Everybody laughed, and then Pat made a funny little bow and held up his paw to shake hands.
"How much do you want for him?" said the showman in the velveteen coat. "I'm looking out for a smart little terrier to guard my show. I wouldn't mind a couple of shillings."
"He's not for sale, thank you," answered Dick politely.
"Nonsense! Every dog has a price, and most likely you've picked him up somewhere underhanded. So come along."
Dick flushed scarlet at the insult and again said "No!" decidedly.