So he got up and walked silently around to the corner of the porch. With one foot raised, he stopped scarcely three feet from Old Klaws, who was sitting on the end of the top step.
Just as the old cat finished his story, Old Boze sprang toward him with a loud, "Bow-wow-wow." The old cat bounded as if he were made of India-rubber of the best quality. Such a cat-jump the little boy had never seen before. The first leap carried Old Klaws far out on the garden walk, and in the twinkling of an eye he was among the topmost branches of the old pear tree. When he felt himself safe, he turned round and began to spit and snarl and say bad words at Old Boze, who was looking at him with his long tongue hanging out of his mouth, and his face all wrinkled up into a broad grin.
Little Luke had jumped almost as lively as Old Klaws, but when he saw who it was and took in the old cat's language, and the old dog's funny looking face, he lay down on the porch and laughed till the tears came.
XXXI. THE STORY OF THE FAITHFUL DOG
"Dear Old Boze," said the little boy, after the fun was over, "can't you tell me a story of the old days?"
"Yes," replied the old hound, "I can. And since Old Klaws has told you about one dog, I'll tell you about another."
"Once upon a time," went on the old hound, "there was an Indian hunter who had a dog that he loved very dearly. And the dog on his part loved his master more than his own life.