Chapter II.
SAM, THE FAT BOY.
Tim stopped as quickly as if he had stepped into a pool of glue, which had suddenly hardened and held him prisoner, and peered anxiously ahead, trying to discover where the voice came from.
"Didn't know there was anybody round here, did yer?" continued the voice, while the body still remained hidden from view.
Again Tim tried to discover the speaker, and failing in the attempt, he asked, in a sort of frightened desperation, "Who are you anyhow?"
"Call off yer dog, and I'll show yer."
These words made Tim feel very much braver, for they showed that the speaker as well as himself was frightened, and he lost no time in reducing Tip to a state of subjection by clasping him firmly around the neck.
"Now come out; he wouldn't hurt a fly, an' it's only his way to bark when he's kinder scared."
Thus urged, the party afraid of the dog came out of his place of hiding, which was none other than the branches of a tree, by simply dropping to the ground—a proceeding which gave another shock to the nerves of both Tim and Tip.
But there was nothing about him very alarming, and when Tim had a full view of him, he was inclined to be angry with himself for having allowed so short a boy to frighten him. He was no taller than Tim, and as near as could be seen in the dim light, about as broad as he was long—a perfect ball of jelly, with a face, two legs, and two arms carved on it.