This talk puzzled me, and I was
determined to get to the bottom of the mystery.
"Why, wasn't you there?" cried Isaac Bolum. "Wasn't it you and
William?"
"No," I fairly shouted. "Perry Thomas had the school."
Josiah Nummler's pole clattered to the floor, and he sank into a chair.
"I see--I see," he gasped. "Poor William!"
"I see--I see," said I. "Poor William!"
For William had felt the hand of "Doogulus!"
[Illustration: William had felt the hand of "Doogulus."]
XII
It was young Colonel's first day of life. He had been born six months
before, but for him that had been simply the beginning of existence.
Now he was to live. He was to go with Captain, and with Betsy his
mother, with Arnold Arker's Mike and Major, the best of his breed, to
learn to take the trail and follow it, singing as he ran.
It was young Colonel's first day of life. He was out in the great dog
world, and about him were the mighty hunters of the valley. Arnold
Arker was there with his father's rifle, once a flint-lock, always a
piece of marvellous accuracy, and a hero as guns go, and the old man
patted the puppy and pulled his silky ears.
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