Mind you don't get 'im stole."
He finished up 'is beer and went out; and he 'ad 'ardly gone afore
Ginger took a piece o' thick string out of 'is pocket and fastened it to
the dog's collar.
"Make yourself at 'ome, Ginger," ses Sam, very nasty.
"I'm going to," ses Ginger. "That chap knows something about dogs, and,
if we can't get a reward for 'im, p'r'aps we can sell 'im."
They 'ad another arf-pint each, and then, Ginger taking 'old of the
string, they went out into the street.
"Nine o'clock," ses Peter. "It's no good going 'ome yet, Ginger."
"We can 'ave a glass or two on the way," ses Ginger; "but I sha'n't feel
comfortable in my mind till we've got the dog safe 'ome. P'r'aps the
people wot 'ave lost it are looking for it now."
They 'ad another drink farther on, and a man in the bar took such a
fancy to the dog that 'e offered Ginger five shillings for it and drinks
round.
"That shows 'ow valuable it is," ses Peter Russet when they got outside.
"Hold that string tight, Ginger. Wot's the matter?"
"He won't come," ses Ginger, tugging at the string. "Come on, old chap!
Good dog! Come on!"
He stood there pulling at the dog, wot was sitting down and being
dragged along on its stummick.
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