“Oh, no,” answered Bob. “Don helped me, didn’t you, Don?”
“Bow wow!” barked Don, as Bob put his arms around the shaggy neck of his pet.
“Well, he certainly is a fine dog!” said the man, as he patted Don on the head. And you can just imagine how proud Don was. For he was only a puppy yet, and I think even a larger dog might have been a little afraid to bark at the big, black bull. But Don started in by being brave, and that is a good way to begin life.
“Yes, my dog is a good one,” said Bob. “We’re not afraid of bulls, are we, Don?”
“Bow wow!” barked Don. “No indeed!”
“Well, I must make the fence higher so the bull can’t get out again,” said the farmer.
Then he and Bob and Don went up to the farmhouse, Don wagging his tail on the way, for that is what dogs do when they are pleased and happy.
Don was growing every day. He had good things to eat, he could run about and play as he pleased, and he had a nice warm place to sleep. All those things make puppies grow into big dogs. Of course some dogs are little, and always stay that way, but Don was one of the kind that grows to be large.
Bob, his master, was very fond of Don, and took him with him everywhere he went—except to school, of course. A dog could not go to school any more than could Mary’s little lamb. But often, when it was nearly time for school to be out, Don would slip off down the road, toward the little red schoolhouse.
Not far from it he would lie down in the shade of a tree to wait until the boys and girls came out. Then Don would rush up, barking as loudly as he could, and wagging his tail, for he wanted to see Bob. Don was lonesome without him.