"'What fellow? Why, the burglar, of course. Didn't you read about it in
the newspaper? There was a long piece published about it the day after
it happened, with headings in big letters: "The house No. 35 Wells
Avenue, residence of Thomas Tompkins, the well-known dealer in hardware,
cutlery, etc., was entered last night by burglars. Much valuable
property saved through the courage and pluck of a small dog belonging to
the family." They didn't get that part right, for he didn't belong to us
then. You just wait, and I'll read the whole piece to you. I've got it
somewhere in my pockets. You see, I cut it out of the paper to read to
the boys at school.
"'You'd rather I told you about it? Well. Lie down, Grip! Be quiet!
can't you? He don't mean any thing by sniffing round your ankles in that
way; anyhow, he won't catch hold unless I tell him to; but you see,
ever since that night he wants to go for every strange man or woman that
comes near the place. Liz says "he's got burglars on the brain."
"'I guess I'll begin at the beginning and tell you how I came by him.
One night after school I'd been down to the steamboat landing on an
errand for father, and along on River Street there was a crowd of
loafers round two dogs in a fight.
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