It was brown in colour, shaggy and indefinite in form; it limped excessively, and paused to rub itself, and to meditate.
Peculiar as the thing was, Sam had no doubt as to its identity.

He advanced.
"'Lo, Penrod," he said cautiously, and with a shade of formality.
Penrod leaned against the fence, and, lifting one leg, tested the knee-joint by swinging his foot back and forth, a process evidently provocative of a little pain.

Then he rubbed the left side of his encrusted face, and, opening his mouth to its whole capacity as an aperture, moved his lower jaw slightly from side to side, thus triumphantly settling a question in his own mind as to whether or no a suspected dislocation had taken place.
Having satisfied himself on these points, he examined both shins delicately by the sense of touch, and carefully tested the capacities of his neck-muscles to move his head in a wonted manner.

Then he responded somewhat gruffly: "'Lo!" "Where you been ?" Sam said eagerly, his formality vanishing.
"Havin' a mud-fight." "I guess you did!" Sam exclaimed, in a low voice.

"What you goin' to tell your--" "Oh, nothin'." "Your sister telephoned to our house to see if I knew where you were," said Sam.