“Mother, I have my dog!” cried Bob, as he went into the big white house with Don.

“Have you? That’s nice. I hope he’ll be a good dog, and not come in on my clean carpets with muddy feet,” said Bob’s mother. Don heard her say this, and right away he made up his little doggy mind that he would be as good as a puppy dog can be. But he had many things yet to learn.

“Oh, I’m going to train him to be very good,” said Bob to his mother. “He won’t give you a bit of trouble, will you, Don?” and Bob held Don high up in the air in his hands.

“Wow! Wow!” yelped Don.

“Oh, he’s afraid! Put him down!” cried a girl, with curly hair, who was playing with a doll. She was Bob’s sister.

“Oh, I’m going to teach him not to be afraid,” said the boy, as he still held Don high in the air. “You’re not afraid, are you, Don?”

“Wow!” said the puppy again, but this time he was not so frightened. He knew Bob would be kind to him, and not let him fall. And Bob was very careful.

“Where are you going to keep your dog?” asked Bob’s mother. “I can’t have him in the house all the while.”

“Oh, I’m going to build a little kennel for him, just like he had over at Willie’s house, where he used to live,” said Bob. “I’m going to make a hunting dog of him. Where’s my cap, mother?”

“Oh, Bob! You never can remember where you leave your cap when you come in!” exclaimed his mother. “Now that you have a dog I think you had better train him to hunt your cap, and other things for you. That would be a good kind of hunting dog.”

“I guess it would,” laughed Bob. “Well, come on, Don.”

Bob put Don down on the floor, but the puppy dog, instead of running to his little master, when he was called, ran over toward the girl who was playing with a doll. I guess Don had never seen a doll before.

“Here, sir! Come here when I call you!” cried Bob, snapping his fingers.

But Don paid no attention.

“He likes me best!” said the girl, with a laugh. “Come to me, Don.”

“No, Sallie, you mustn’t do that, dear,” said her mother. “If Bob is to have a dog it must learn to mind him, and come when he calls. A dog is not of much use unless it minds. First let the dog learn to go to Bob, and then he will teach it to come to you when you call.”

“That’s what I will,” promised Bob. “Now, Don, you come to me!”

Don had not yet learned to mind. He still wanted to go to the little girl named Sallie. But Bob was not going to have that. So he stooped over and picked up Don, giving him a little shake, but, of course, not hurting him in the least. For Bob would not do that.

“You must come to me when I call you, old fellow!” said Bob. “I want my dog to be a good dog, and mind me.”

So that was another lesson Don had to learn, you see.

“Now we’ll try it again,” said the boy, after he had patted Don, and stroked his silky ears. “Now come when I call, Don. And, Sallie, please don’t try to make him come to you.”

“I won’t, this time,” promised the little girl with the doll.

Bob carried Don to one end of the room, and put him down on the floor. Then Bob went over and stood by the door.

“Come on, Don!” he called. “Come to me, sir!” Bob snapped his fingers. Don looked up, lifted his ears so he might hear better, and looked at Sallie.

“No, I didn’t call you,” said the little girl.

“Here! Come to me!” cried Bob.

This time the puppy understood, and knew what was wanted of him. With a little yelp he ran toward his new master.

“That’s right! That’s the way to do!” cried Bob. “Now he is learning to mind. He’ll be a fine dog!”

Don was glad when he heard this, and he made up his mind to be as good a dog as he could, even if he was little.

Don was taken out and put in a box. Instead of straw he had a piece of old carpet to lie on.

“That will do until I can get your regular kennel made,” said Bob. “Then I’ll put some straw in it for you to sleep on. But I guess you must be thirsty. I’ll get you some milk.”

Don was very glad to get the nice saucer of milk which the boy soon brought to him. He licked it all up with his red tongue—I mean Don, the puppy, licked up the milk, not Bob the boy.

In a few days Bob had finished the kennel for his new little pet, and Don had just as nice a home as he had at first. Only it was quite different. He had no brothers and sisters to play with, and at first he was a little lonesome. He also missed the mamma dog, but so many things happened to Don, and he saw so many new and strange sights that, after a little while, he forgot all about his first home.

Every day, and sometimes two and three times a day, Bob would come out to see Don, and would bring his pet some nice things to eat. Then Bob would take him for a little walk.

Don’s new home was on a farm, and there were many new animals for him to watch. Some of them he did not know the names of, but he soon got so he could tell a cow from a horse, even though each of them had four legs and a tail. But a cow had horns, and a horse did not.

Every day Don was learning something new. He was growing to be a large puppy now, and he could run fast, and not tumble down as he had done at first. He had strong, sharp teeth, too, though he did not want to bite any one. He kept his teeth for gnawing on bones, and chewing puppy cakes, which were hard—almost as hard to eat as ginger snaps are for you.

Bob took Don with him to many places on the farm, and also out into the woods. But Don kept close to his new master, so as not to get lost.

“Though if I did get lost I think I could find my way home again,” thought Don. “I could easily sniff and smell my way back, I am sure.”

One day when Don was asleep in the nice, soft straw of his new kennel which Bob had made for him, the little puppy dog was suddenly awakened by hearing a loud noise. It sounded like:

“What are you going to do?”

Don jumped up and opened his eyes.

“What am I going to do?” he asked. “Who is it wants to know? Who are you? What’s the matter?”

Then he heard the voice again, only, this time, it seemed to say:

“Cock-a-doodle-doo!”

With that, a long neck, covered with feathers, was thrust inside the kennel, and something sharp pricked Don on his little black nose.

“Hi there!” he barked. “Please stop that. You’re not a kitten or a cat, and you shouldn’t scratch me that way!”

“Cock-a-doodle-do!” went the funny animal again. “Of course I’m not a kitten or a cat. I’m a rooster—the biggest rooster on the farm, and I’m bigger even than you, no matter if you are a puppy. You are so nice and soft that I like to put my bill in your ribs!”

“Oh, but I don’t like it!” barked Don, and he tried to get out of the way, but the rooster kept sticking his long neck inside the kennel, and pecking at Don.

The little puppy dog hardly knew what to do. If he ran out he was sure the rooster would run after him. He had never seen a rooster before, for all the chickens on the farm were kept in their own yard, far away from the kennel.

Poor Don was not having a very good time. He howled and barked, and tried to scare the rooster, but the big fowl only kept on crowing, and saying:

“Cock-a-doodle-do!”

It sounded just as if he said:

“What you going to do?”

Poor Don could not do anything.

But Sallie, Bob’s sister, saw what was going on.

“Oh,” cried the little girl. “The big rooster has gotten out of his coop, and he’s pecking Don. Bob won’t like that. I must drive that rooster away.”

So the little girl ran up to the kennel, crying:

“Shoo! Shoo! Go away you bad rooster!”

Then the rooster was frightened. He flapped his wings, crowed again, and away he flew, off to his coop behind the wire fence, where he belonged.

“You poor little puppy you!” cried Sallie, as she tenderly picked Don up in her arms. “Did the bad rooster bite you?”

“Wow! Eow! Yip! Yow!” said Don, softly. But he was all right, now that the rooster had been driven away.

Don was not much hurt, for a puppy dog is so soft that a rooster’s bill does not do much harm.

“But it was almost as bad as the time the cat scratched me,” thought Don. “That’s two things I’ve got to be afraid of—cats and roosters. But when I get to be a big dog I won’t be afraid of either one.”

When Bob came home from school his sister told him about the rooster pecking the puppy dog.

“There must be a hole in the fence, where the rooster got out,” said Bob. “I’ll mend it. Come on, Don, we’ll go fix the fence. Then the rooster can’t get out again to bother you.”

“Bow-wow!” barked Don, for he was getting old enough now to bark almost like a big dog. I guess he meant to say that he was not afraid of a rooster, though, to tell the truth, I think he was, just a little bit.

“Come on, Don!” called Bob, and the dog followed his master.

On the way to the chicken coop they passed the pen where the pigs were kept.

“I guess I’ll show you the pigs, Don,” said Bob. “You must get to know them, so if any of them get out, any time, you can chase them, and make them go back into their pen.”

Bob lifted Don up in his arms, and held him over the edge of the pig pen. There was one big, mother pig, and seven little ones. One of the little pigs had a funny, squinting eye. It was partly closed, and the other eye was wide open, and when this little pig looked up at you, with one ear lifted up, and the other drooping down, you felt as though you wanted to laugh, he was so comical.

As Bob lifted his dog Don up to see the pigs, this one I have told you about raised up on his hind legs and squealed.

“Hello, Squinty!” called the boy, for the pig was named Squinty, on account of his squinting eye. “Hello, Squinty!” cried Bob. “I guess you’d like to get out and dig in the garden, eh? Well, you can’t, so you must stay in the pen.”

“Squee! Squee!” cried Squinty, the comical pig, about whom I have told you in the book named after him. He had many adventures, did Squinty—adventures with Slicko, the squirrel; with Mappo, the merry monkey; and with Tum Tum, the jolly elephant.

“Squee! Squee!” grunted Squinty, looking at Don in that funny way.

“No, you can’t get out,” said Bob, laughing.

Then Squinty looked at Don.

“You look like a nice dog,” said the little pig. “Can’t you come and let me out of the pen, some day when no one is looking? Do come! I’m tired of staying in here. Wuff! Wuff!”

“Bow-wow!” barked Don, and that was how he got to know Squinty, the comical pig.

“Will you come and bite a hole in the pen so I can get out?” asked Squinty of Don.

“Bow wow! No, that would not be right,” Don said, for he and the little pig could talk together in animal talk, which Bob, the boy, could not understand. Bob thought his dog and the pig were just grunting and squealing, and barking and whining. That goes to show you animals can do things we cannot do.

“No, I can’t let you out,” said Don, as his master set him down, and walked over toward the chicken coop, where the boy was going to fix the fence so the big rooster could not get out again.

But, just before they got there, something happened. There was a loud noise, and Bob’s sister Sallie screamed:

“Oh, Bob! The big black bull is loose! The big black bull has jumped over the pasture fence! Oh, Bob!”

“Come on, Don!” cried Bob. “There’s some work for us!”