nodding the dew off their heads, and beginning to roll in the first long waves which would keep up all day like the rolling of the ocean.  We shouted “Good-bye” to Grandpa Oldberry and Squire Poinsett, but they only shook their heads very seriously.  The cows and horses picketed on the prairie all about the little clump of houses which made up the town looked at us with their eyes open extremely wide, and no doubt said in their own languages, like Grandpa Oldberry, that they had no recollection of seeing any such capers as this for many years.

“See here,” I said, suddenly, to Jack, “where’s that dog you said was going to follow us?”

“You just hold on,” answered Jack.

“Oh, are we going to have a dog, too?” asked Ollie.

“You wait a minute,” insisted Jack.

Just then we passed the railroad station.  Jack craned his head out of the front end of the wagon.  Ollie and I did the same.  Lying asleep on the corner of the station platform we saw a dog.  He was about the size of a rather small collie; or, to put it another way, perhaps he was half as big as the largest-size dog.  If dogs were numbered like shoes, from one to thirteen, this would have been about a No. 7 dog.  He was yellow, with short hair, except that his tail was very bushy.  One ear stood up straight, and the other lopped over, very much wilted.  Jack whistled sharply.  The dog tossed up his head, straightened up his lopped ear, let fall his other ear, and looked at us.  Jack whistled again, and the dog came.  He ran around the wagon, barked once or twice, sniffed at the pony’s heels and got kicked at for his familiarity, yelped sharply, and came and looked up at us, and wagged his bushy tail with a great flourish.

“He wants to get in.  Give him a boost, Ollie,” said Jack.

Ollie clambered over the dash-board and jumped to the ground.  He pushed the dog forward, and he leaped up and scrambled into the wagon, jumped over on the bed, where he folded his head and tail on his left side, turned around rapidly three times, and lay down and went to sleep, one ear up and one ear down.

[Illustration:  Snoozer]

“He’s just the dog for the Rattletrap,” said Jack.  “We’ll call him Snoozer.”

“That looks a good deal like stealing to me, Uncle Jack,” said Ollie.  “Doesn’t he belong to somebody?”

“No,” said Jack, “he doesn’t belong to anybody but us.  He came here a week ago with a tramp.  The tramp deserted him, and rode away on the trucks of a freight train; but Snoozer didn’t like that way of travelling, because there wasn’t any place to sleep, so he stayed behind.  Since then he has tried to follow every man in town, but none of them would have him.  He’s a regular tramp dog, not good for anything, and therefore just the dog for us.”