"That pup
is growing older, and crosser. He'd bite a pound or two out of
some prowler's leg, and we don't want that to happen."
"Why not?" demanded Dave grimly, opening his eyes very wide.
Dick laughed softly by way of answer.
"I'd just as soon have a tramp chewed up as have our food supplies
vanish," Darry maintained.
"Little David, your temper has the upper hand of you at this moment,"
laughed Prescott.
"When that temper is on top you're dangerous---almost bloodthirsty.
When your temper is in check you're as kind and gentle as any
good-natured fellow. You wouldn't really want to see any human
being mangled by a bull-pup's teeth."
"Well, maybe not mangled," Darry agreed. "But I don't believe
Harry's pup would do any more than take hold---and keep hold."
"We won't have the pup, anyway," Dick replied, in a low voice.
"Why not?" Dave again demanded.
"Because, as you know well enough, Harry's father was afraid the
pup would only get us into trouble by chewing up someone, and
so declined to let us bring the dog."
"That was a shame," Dave insisted.
"I don't think so. If six of us can't take care of one stray
tramp, not much larger than any of us, then we're too tender,
and ought to be sleeping in little white cribs at home.
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