ng the lunch baskets. Besides, he
seemed to take everything Purt tried to do to him as a game of play.

"Do leave the dog alone, Purt!" exclaimed Lil, at last. "You're making
yourself perfectly ridiculous."

Lily Pendleton's opinion had weight with Pretty Sweet. He sat down,
gloomy and breathless, and tried to ignore the Barnacle.

The latter sat on his tail all through the _alfresco_ meal, directly
behind Purt. The dude gave him no attention; but the other boys threw
pieces of meat and sweet crackers into the air for the Barnacle to
catch.

Could he catch them? Why! it seemed as though the dog must have been
trained for just that trick. He never missed a bite!

When his appetite was satisfied the mongrel began to try to attract
Purt's attention. Every time Purt reached for anything, the Barnacle's
cold, wet nose was right there! It was a plain case of "love at first
sight," as Bobby remarked. Nothing could convince that dog that Purt
was not his loving friend.

But finally the dude's serious air and his efforts to reach the dog
with a particularly well-shod foot, made an impression on the
Barnacle. He squatted down before Purt and lifting up his head,
uttered a howl that would have brought tears to the eyes of a graven
image.

"You'll break the poor dog's heart, Purt," said Jess, gravely. "Give
him a kind word."

"He has the most sorrowful face on him of any dog I ever saw,"
declared Dora Lockwood. "Look at him kindly, even if you can't
speak."

"Yes," whispered Dorothy, her twin. "He has almost as sorrowful a face
as Lizzie's."

"Gee! there's a pair of them," sighed Bobby, ecstatically. "Let's take
the dog with us to be a comrade for Liz."

Indeed, Lizzie Bean petted the mongrel, which hung around the camp
until the picnickers started up the river again.

There was another disturbance when Purt tried to slip aboard the
_Duchess_ without the dog. The Barnacle whined, and howled, and jumped
aboard, and was finally driven ashore with an oar.

The motorboats and their tows got off into the stream. There sat the
deserted dog on his tail, howling most dismally as the boats drew up
stream and left him behind.

Laura called to Purt in the other boat: "Never mind, Mr. Sweet, I
don't think you'll be troubled with that dog any more. It's twenty
miles to Lake Dunkirk. He will never follow you that far."

"I bet the Barnacle haunts Purt in his dreams," exclaimed Bobby.

"Oh! say not so!" begged Billy Long. "I