Don looked around quickly to see who had spoken. He saw two boys standing at the corner, near where that good smell of meat came from, for which Don was so hungry. One of the boys had stooped to pick up a stone.
“Come on, Bill,” said this boy. “Get yourself a stone and we’ll see who of us can hit that dog first.”
“Oh, I don’t want to,” answered the other boy. “What’s the good of hitting him?”
“To make him run. Come on.”
“No, I don’t want to. What’s the use of hurting a dog? I like dogs. I wonder if I could take that one home with me?”
Don had two kinds of feelings just then. One was sort of an angry feeling at the boy who wanted to throw a stone at him, and the other feeling was a kind, glad one, toward the other boy.
“That boy looks something like my little master, Bob,” thought Don. “I’d like to go to him, for I think he would give me something to eat. And oh! how hungry I am.”
Don wagged his tail. This was for the good boy. Then Don growled, the least little bit. That was for the bad boy. It was as if Don had said to the good boy:
“I like you. I want to be friends with you. You and I can have good times together.”
And when Don growled, it was as though he had said to the bad boy: