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Gr-r-r-r-r! came the voice of Towser, in the near distance. It was followed by barks and yelps, all in the voice of Hazelton's bull-dog. "What trouble has the pup gotten into?" demanded Harry, throwing an armful of wood on the campfire, then wheeling sharply. Gr-r-r-r! Wow-wow! Woof! sounded closer at hand, accompanied by considerable noise in the underbrush.
"Hunch," he exclaimed with an involuntary glance at the mended candlestick, "where in the devil did you get this?" "I ask yuh to remember," went on Hunch in some excitement, "that I was drunk an' the old she-wol Gr-r-r-r-r!" Hunch cleared his heavy throat in a panic, with a rasp like the stripping of gears, and corrected himself.
A point was found at which the launch could be backed in. By this time the boys were on shore, their canoe hauled up, and they stood ready to help their guests ashore. "We've landed a little below the camp," said Dick, "but it won't take us more than a minute to walk there. After we've taken you into the camp we'll return for the garden truck." Gr-r-r-r-r! came a warning sound through the bushes.
There was no time to rise. Towser, growling angrily, was upon him with a bound. Gr-r-r-r-r! Fred, with a shriek, felt the dog's teeth in the back of his shirt. "Get out, you beast!" begged young Ripley in a faint voice. Gr-r-r-r! was all the answer. Plainly the dog liked the taste of that shirt, for he held to it tight. "Get away -please do!" faltered Fred in a broken voice. "Get away. Don't bite.
Nice doggie! Nice, nice doggie! Please let go!" Gr-r-r-r-r! But Towser didn't attempt to bite as yet. For a bull-dog, and considering how fully he was master of the field at present, Towser displayed amazing good nature. Only when young Ripley moved did the four-footed policeman of the camp utter that warning growl. "Nice doggie!" coaxed Fred pleadingly. "Good old fellow!"
I need money, Airy-Fairy. My God! how I got the capacity for needing money!" "What's money to health, Mr. Jastrow? It ain't human or freak nature to digest glass. Honest, every time I hear you crunching I get the chills!" Then Mr. Jastrow shot forward his lower jaw with a milling motion: "Gr-r-r-r-r!" "She's sweet on you, Jastrow, like all the rest of 'em."
Opening the largest blade of his pocketknife, Fred cut one of the guy-ropes. He passed around the tent, cutting each one in turn, until the canvas shelter fell over in a white mass. "Won't they be sore, though?" laughed Fred maliciously, as he started to carry off the camp supplies. Gr-r-r-r-r! Gr-r-r-r!
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