“Belongs right here, sir!” The boys glanced around and found a colored stableman observing them smilingly from the doorway. Trevor placed the puppy upon the ground, where it at once relapsed into a state of loud and poignant grief, leaping with snowy feet against his stockings, and crying vehemently to be again taken up. Trevor patted it, whereupon its grief gave place to uncontrollable delight; it stood on its hind legs, buried its short nose in a small snow-bank, and attempted to take the boy’s entire hand into its pink mouth, and all within the instant. “It’s the liveliest pup I ever saw,” said Carl. “That’s a fine dog, sir,” said the owner. “His mother took a first and two second prizes at the dog show last week, and his father’s got lots of ’em. Yes, siree, he’s a mighty fine dog, he is.” “Come on,” said Dick, “we’ll lose the train if we’re not careful.” But Trevor paid no heed. He was looking intently at the puppy, which, with the boy’s left thumb between his teeth, was radiantly happy. “He’s got a pedigree as long as yer arm,” continued the stableman. “Has he?” muttered Trevor. “He can be registered ter-morrer, he can; he’s blue-blooded right through, he is.” “Is he?” said Trevor. The puppy was now on its back, legs limply aloft, and Trevor was thoughtfully rubbing a pink-and-white stomach. “Was you wanting to buy a dog, sir?” “N-no, I think not,” answered Trevor. “Say, come on, Nesbitt, or we’ll be late,” cried Carl. The stableman glanced over his shoulder. “Lots of time, gentlemen; train ain’t due for twelve minutes yet.” Then, addressing Trevor, “I had four of them and sold ’em all ’cept this one; an’ he’s the best of the lot; an’ cheap, too--dirt cheap.” “How much?” asked Trevor with elaborate carelessness. “You can have him for five dollars.” “Phew!” said Stewart. “Give you fifty cents,” said Carl. The stableman turned indignantly. “I reckon you don’t know much about what bulldogs is worth,” he said. “This gentleman here knows that that ain’t too much for a puppy as fine as that one; don’t you, sir?” “I dare say he’s worth that much,” answered Trevor, “but I couldn’t pay it.” “What would you do with it if you had it?” asked Dick. “Now, look here; I’ll tell you what I’ll do, sir,” said the stableman. “You can have him for three dollars and a half. And that’s mighty cheap, that is.” Trevor looked longingly at the puppy, who was now for the moment quiescent, and who was gazing up into Trevor’s face as though breathlessly awaiting his verdict. “I--I’ll give you a dollar to-day and pay you the rest next Saturday,” he said finally. “You one of the Hillton young gentlemen?” asked the stableman. “Yes.” “Well, you can take him along. What’s your name?”