You see, Rover is a pretty big dog and affectionate. He would rush up to Mr. Edwin Skreever and jump up on him and try to kiss him on the face. Sometimes he would get one paw on Mr. Edwin Skreever’s necktie and one paw on his collar, and sometimes he would get one paw on Mr. Edwin Skreever’s vest and the other sort of tangled in his watch-chain. Then Mr. Edwin Skreever would whack at him and say: “Get down you beast!” But not when May was handy. Rover was my dog, because May had given him to me, but he was May’s dog, too, because Mr. Jack Betts had given him to May. I never knew when Rover was my dog and when he was May’s dog, because girls are mostly Indian givers. When she wanted to pet Rover and take him walking, he was May’s dog--so she claimed--but when Rover howled or needed to be fed, May would say: “For goodness’ sake, George, attend to that dog of yours!” I guess one reason Mr. Edwin Skreever did not care much for Rover was because Mr. Jack Betts had given him to May. I guess Mr. Edwin Skreever was jealous, because when Mr. Jack Betts gave Rover to May everybody thought Mr. Jack Betts was the one she was going to be married to. Well, no matter! I only want to tell you the awful fix Wampus and I got into on account of being left up there on the island where we would be out of mischief. On the 9th of September Parcell came up in his big motor-launch and took May and mother and the Smales all down to town to get ready for May’s wedding. So they left Mr. Edwin Skreever on the island with me and Wampus, because we could go down in Mr. Edwin Skreever’s motor-boat on the 11th, which was the wedding day. I guess they were almost as glad to have Mr. Edwin Skreever out of the way as they were to have me and Wampus out of the way. That left nobody on the island but us three and Orpheus Cadwallader, who is the caretaker and stays on the island all winter. He was to close up our cottage when we left. So that was all right. The last thing May said before she got aboard Parcell’s launch was: “Now, George, you be sure you don’t let Rover wander off somewhere so you can’t bring him down when you come. You had better tie him up.” I’ve told you about Rover, and how he would wander for miles around the island, and even swim across to Oak Island and wander there, hunting a dead fish to perfume himself with. The only way to keep him from wandering after dead fish was to tie him up, and then he howled all night. That was his second bad habit, and it was almost worse than dead fish. He was the loudest and saddest howler I ever heard. When you tied him up, he would sit down on his haunches and put his nose up and open his mouth and just let loose all the agony of all the dogs that ever suffered pain or sorrow from the days of Adam right on to to-day. And loudly, too. When Rover really got interested in howling, you could hear him five miles.