Brown lowered the shovel and looked at him.

The dog grovelled in the sand and whined dolefully.
"Humph!" grunted the young man; "I guess you're not as dangerous as you look.

Stay where you are and keep still." He turned to enter the kitchen, turning again just in time to find the pup at his heels.

He lifted the shovel, and Job jumped frantically out of reach, sat down in a clump of beach grass, lifted his nose to the sky and expressed his feelings in a howl of utter misery.
"Good--heavens!" observed John Brown fervently, and, shifting the shovel to his left hand, rubbed his forehead with his right.

Job howled once more and gazed at him with sorrowful appeal.