"Yes, Hans," answered Songbird. "He is nothing but a dog, and rather friendly at that."
The dog came closer, wagging his tail slowly and suspiciously. Dick put out his hand and patted him, and then he waved his tail in a vigorous fashion.
"He is willing enough to be friends," said the eldest Rover. "I shouldn't be surprised if he is homeless."
"In that case, we might adopt him," said Tom, who loved a nice dog.
"Let us try him on something to eat," put in Songbird. "There is no meat left on that bone."
Some things had been saved for breakfast, and a portion was set before the newcomer. He devoured it greedily and wagged his tail furiously.
"He feels at home now," said Dick, and he was right. The dog leaped up, first on one and then another, and licked their hands.
"What's your name?" asked Tom, and the dog wagged his tail and gave a low, joyful bark.
"Better call him Wags," suggested Sam. "He seems to be death on keeping that tail going."
"Wags it is," announced Tom. "How do yon like it, Wags, old boy?" And the dog barked again and leaped up and down several times in joy.
"Vell, he vos goot enough," was Hans' com-
