Don tried to run on faster, but it was of no use. In a few minutes more he felt something hit him on the head. Then [he was all tangled up in the meshes of the net, and he fell down], hurting his cut foot more than ever.
[He was all tangled up in the meshes of the net, and he fell down.]
“Now I have you!” cried the man with the net. He picked up Don, and, as the wagon came up, tossed him into it. Instantly there was a chorus of barks and growls, for there were many other dogs in the wagon, and they did not seem to like Don.
“Who’s coming in here now?” growled one of the dogs in the catcher’s wagon.
“Yes; weren’t we crowded enough already?” asked another.
“Oh, well, it doesn’t make much difference,” snarled a third dog. “We’ll soon have room enough in the pound.”
“I’m sorry to bother you,” said Don, thinking it best to make friends with the stray dogs, “but I did not come in here of my own accord. I was—”