Fighting against the last instinct that held him back he first thrust his head out from the brush and looked at Breault.

Breault paid no attention to him for a few moments, but sliced his bacon.

When the perfume of the cooking meat reached Peter's nose he edged himself a little nearer, and with a whimpering sigh flattened himself on his belly.
Breault heard the sigh, and grunted a reply, "Hungry again, Peter ?" he inquired casually.
He had saved for this moment a piece of cooked bacon held over from breakfast, and tearing this with his fingers he tossed the strips to Peter.

As he did this he was thinking to himself, "Why am I doing this?
I don't want the dog.

He will be a nuisance.