Only when young Ripley moved did the four-footed policeman of the camp utter that warning growl.
"Nice doggie!" coaxed Fred pleadingly.

"Good old fellow!" To this bit of rank flattery Towser offered no reply.

It began to look as though he would be quite satisfied if only his captive made no effort to get away.
"Wouldn't I like to be on my feet, with a shotgun in my hands!" gritted Fred.
"Gr-r-r-r," replied Towser, as though he were an excellent reader of human minds.
For a few moments Fred lay utterly quiet, save for the trembling that he could not control.
During those same moments Towser made himself more comfortable by shifting himself so that he lay with his paws across Fred's left shoulder-blade.

His teeth remained firmly fastened in Ripley's shirt.
"Now, how long are you going to stay here, you beast ?" glared Fred Ripley, though he did not dare emphasize his displeasure by stirring.

It was an instance in which his own displeasure amounted to infinitely less than that of the dog.
Over at the hotel Dick Prescott was reading this telegram to his chums: "Letter received.