A good many had pelted him as they went by the place, and that made him ugly. Silas Dolby, it was said, half starved the poor animal, and that made him fierce.
"Get back! Go away!" called Frank, backing away from the dog.
The animal growled and sprang and snapped at him. Frank stumbled over a broken board. Then he picked up a crotched piece of tree wood. The dog fought him half way back to the gate, when Bob and Sammy came running up to the rescue of their chum. The dog had caught and torn Frank's sleeve. They beat him off with switches, but the animal was vicious and stubborn, and followed them up.
Just as they got through the gate and slammed it shut, Mr. Dolby appeared on the steps.
"Hi, there; what are you up to?" he shouted.
"I had a message for you, but your dog wouldn't let me in," said Frank.
"What's your message?" asked the old man, surlily.
"My uncle says he will fix up your watch for you as good as new."
"Who pays for it?"
"We have arranged for that."
"All right, I'll take it down to him this evening."
Sammy was brushing the dirt from Frank's clothing while this talk was going on.
"I'm a good deal mussed up," said Frank.
"We won't go into that yard again in a hurry," said Bob.
Frank was smoothing down his coat. He happened to feel in his pockets to see if everything was safe.
"Hello!" he cried, suddenly.
"What's the matter?" asked Bob.
"The key."
"What about it?"
