now was reminded by the animal
itself, who, having apparently swallowed the bone whole, began once more
to howl lugubriously. Brown decided to let him howl for the present,
and, going into the living-room, picked up an old magazine and began
listlessly to read.

The howls from the yard continued, swelled to a crescendo of shrieks
and then suddenly ceased. A moment later there was a thump and a mighty
scratching at the kitchen door. The substitute assistant dropped the
magazine and sprang from his chair.

"Good Lord!" he exclaimed; "I believe--"

He did not finish the sentence. There was no need. If he had any doubts
as to the cause of the racket at the door they were dispelled by a howl
like a fog whistle. "Job" had escaped from durance vile and was seeking
companionship.

Brown muttered an exclamation of impatience and, opening the door a very
little way, peeped through the crack. The pup--he looked like a scrawny
young lion--hailed his appearance with a series of wild yelps. His
mouth opened like a Mammoth Cave in miniature, and a foot of red tongue
flapped like a danger signal.

"Get out, you brute!" ordered Brown.

Job did not get out. Instead he yelped again and capered with the grace
of a cow. His feet and legs seemed to have grown out of proportion to
the rest of him; they were enormous. Down the length of his yellow back
were three raw furrows which the nails of the box cover had scraped as
he climbed from under them.

"Nice dog!" coaxed the lightkeeper's helper. "Nice doggie! Good old
boy!"

The good old boy pranced joyfully and made a charge at the door. Brown
slammed it shut just in time.

"Clear out!" he yelled, from behind it. "Go away! Go and lie down!"

The answer was a mighty howl of disappointment and an assault on the
door which threatened to shatter the panels. Job's paws were armed with
claws proportionate to their size.

This would never do. The paint on that door had been furnished by the
government, and Atkins was very careful of it. Brown, within, pounded
a protest and again commanded the dog to go and lie down. Job, without,
thumped and scratched and howled louder than ever. He had decidedly the
best of the duet, and the door was suffering every second. Brown picked
up the fire shovel and threw the door wide open.

"Get out!" he roared. "Get out or I'll kill you!"

He brandished the shovel, expecting an assault. But none came. It was
evident that Job knew a shovel when he saw it