The two boys went softly up toward the dog. I do not know what they would have done with him if they had caught him, but they did not get their hands on Don.
He stopped gnawing at the rope long enough to look up, and he saw the boys. With a yelp, a growl and whine, all together, Don sprang up and ran on again.
“There he goes!” cried one of the boys.
“Yes. Head him off! You go one way, and I’ll go the other,” shouted the second boy. “Then we’ll get him, sure.”
“Oh, what a lot of trouble I’m having!” thought poor Don. “How I wish I were back on the farm! And I wish Jack, that shaggy dog, was here to help me. I wonder where he went to?”
But Jack was far away, and Don had to fight his battle alone. Finally, as he was running around with the can on his tail, Don saw a little hole in the pile of lumber.
“If I can only crawl in there,” he said, “I’ll hide from those boys. They can’t get at me in there.”
Don made a dive for the hole. It was just large enough to let him crawl in. He hoped the tin can might catch on something and be pulled off his tail. But it did not. Inside his hiding place the can followed poor Don.
“Never mind,” thought the tired and panting dog, “if the can had caught on something, and if I pulled too hard, I might pull my tail off also, and that would be too bad.” And of course it would. You know that, as well as I do, without me telling you.
“But maybe when Jack comes back, and these boys go away, I’ll be able to get rid of this old tin can,” thought Don. “Maybe Jack can help me gnaw it off.”