So the little girl ran up to the kennel, crying:
“Shoo! Shoo! Go away you bad rooster!”
Then the rooster was frightened. He flapped his wings, crowed again, and away he flew, off to his coop behind the wire fence, where he belonged.
“You poor little puppy you!” cried Sallie, as she tenderly picked Don up in her arms. “Did the bad rooster bite you?”
“Wow! Eow! Yip! Yow!” said Don, softly. But he was all right, now that the rooster had been driven away.
Don was not much hurt, for a puppy dog is so soft that a rooster’s bill does not do much harm.
“But it was almost as bad as the time the cat scratched me,” thought Don. “That’s two things I’ve got to be afraid of—cats and roosters. But when I get to be a big dog I won’t be afraid of either one.”
When Bob came home from school his sister told him about the rooster pecking the puppy dog.
“There must be a hole in the fence, where the rooster got out,” said Bob. “I’ll mend it. Come on, Don, we’ll go fix the fence. Then the rooster can’t get out again to bother you.”