“Oh, I think so,” answered the poodle. “My little mistress, or her father, is sure to come looking for me.”
“Well, I wish some one would come for me, or that I could find my way back to the farm,” said Don, sadly enough. “I’d never run away again—never!”
It was not at all nice in the dog pound. There was water to drink, but it was not clean, and it was very warm, for the sun shone on it all day long. And there was hardly anything to eat.
Once in a while some scraps of food were thrown in to the dogs, but there were so many of them, and they were so fierce and strong, the most of them, that little dogs, like Rex, and lame dogs, like Don, got nothing at all.
“And I am so hungry!” whined Rex. “I would just like to have some nice chicken bones now, wouldn’t you, Don?”
“I’d be glad to have even a dry crust of bread,” said Don, sadly.
His foot pained him more than ever now, and he could walk about only a little, and very slowly.
“I am so sorry for you,” said Rex. “When my little mistress comes for me I know she’ll help you. Maybe she’ll take you home when she takes me.”
“Oh, I couldn’t expect that,” said Don. “But I would be glad if I were back in the hole in the lumber pile, with my friend Jack. I thought that was bad enough, after my nice kennel, but I would be glad of it now.”
“I wouldn’t like to live that way,” said Rex. “Did you have a blue silk cushion to sleep on, when you were home?” he asked.