Tip had his share in a saucer, and he ate it in as dignified a manner as the best-behaved dog could have done.
For several moments all gave their undivided attention to the chowder, which was not exactly as good as they were accustomed to at home, but which, being the product of their own labor, tasted better than anything they had ever eaten before.
Especially to Tim was it good, because of the spirit which prompted its manufacture, and because it was an evidence of their good-will to him. Tip rather turned his nose up at it, however. Since his arrival at Minchin's Island he had been petted and fed by every boy in town, thanks to Bobby's stories of his ability as a bear dog, until now it required something more than ordinary food to tempt his appetite.
But the feast was not the only way by which the boy who had come among them was to be honored, as Tim soon found out. A very elaborate programme had been arranged, and not one single detail was to be omitted.
Bill Thompson, with his mouth uncomfortably full, arose to his feet in such a clumsy manner that he upset what remained of Bobby's chowder, very much to the disadvantage of the table-cloth and his trousers, and said, with some hesitation:
"Mr. Babbige, we fellers heard all about you last night from our esteemed feller-citizen Mr. Bob Tucker, an' we wanted to do something to show you what we thought of you."
Here Bill stopped to swallow a portion of the cracker that impeded his speech, and Tim looked around him in blank amazement, not understanding this portion of the proceedings. Bill continued in the most serious manner:
"We knowed what a hard time you was havin' on the Pride, an' we wanted to have you come an' live here, 'cause we thought we should like you, an' 'cause you had such a fine dog. This little chowder welcome ain't all we've got for yer. To-morrer we're goin' to take Tip an' you out in the woods, an' we've decided that the first bear he kills shall be skinned, an' the skin nailed up on Bobby Tucker's father's barn, where everybody can see what your Tip has done."
At this point Bobby Tucker slyly pinched Tip's stub tail, and he uttered such a yelp that the remainder of the company applauded loudly, thinking he must have understood what was said.
When the noise ceased, Bill bowed gracefully to Tip as an acknowledgment of his appreciation, and having swallowed that which had been in his mouth, was able to speak more plainly.