“An' he was here when I arrived,” concluded Dale, smiling. “I never wanted to get rid of him after that. He's turned out to be the finest dog I ever knew. He knows what I say. He can almost talk. An' I swear he can cry. He does whenever I start off without him.”
“How perfectly wonderful!” exclaimed Bo. “Aren't animals great?... But I love horses best.”
It seemed to Helen that Pedro understood they were talking about him, for he looked ashamed, and swallowed hard, and dropped his gaze. She knew something of the truth about the love of dogs for their owners. This story of Dale's, however, was stranger than any she had ever heard.
Tom, the cougar, put in an appearance then, and there was scarcely love in the tawny eyes he bent upon Pedro. But the hound did not deign to notice him. Tom sidled up to Bo, who sat on the farther side of the tarpaulin table-cloth, and manifestly wanted part of her breakfast.
“Gee! I love the look of him,” she said. “But when he's close he makes my flesh creep.”
“Beasts are as queer as people,” observed Dale. “They take likes an' dislikes. I believe Tom has taken a shine to you an' Pedro begins to be interested in your sister. I can tell.”
“Where's Bud?” inquired Bo.
“He's asleep or around somewhere. Now, soon as I get the work done, what would you girls like to do?”
“Ride!” declared Bo, eagerly.
“Aren't you sore an' stiff?”