"Very good," murmured the Cowardly Lion, waving his tail gently, "except that last line. 'Was ate.' Isn't that a bit ungrammatical, even for Oz?"
"There you go getting unish," teased Notta. "I guess I can be ungrammatical in Un."
"Notta! Notta! I've got another bite," screamed Bob, hopping about on one foot. That finished the argument.
"Hope it's a bite for me," said the Cowardly Lion. Then he gave a little roar of surprise, for over the edge of the skyle came a dog—as dear and shaggy a little bow-wow as had ever barked at an ice man. The hook had caught neatly in its collar and, though it was a little out of breath, it was otherwise unhurt.
"Well," rumbled the Cowardly Lion, rising on his haunches, "so this is breakfast? Bob, what do you mean by catching a dog for my breakfast?"
"Oh, please," whimpered the dog, rolling its soft eyes in terror. "You wouldn't eat a little fellow who was only out for a walk, would you?" He sat up and begged so prettily Bob caught him up in his arms and hugged him. "Oh, Notta, may I keep him? I've never had a dog!"
"Well, now," said the clown, scratching his ear, "I don't see why not."
"Don't keep me," wailed the dog piteously, "for I belong to a little boy on another star, and he would miss me very much."
"What kind of a dog are you?" gasped the clown, staring at the little creature. "What do you mean by taking a walk through the sky, and living on a star?"
"I am a skye terrier," answered the little dog, looking anxiously from one to the other. "You wouldn't hurt a little fellow like me, would you?"