They were not long in discovering the cause of all that commotion. A yellow dog of no particular breed but of the kind generally denominated “cur,” came tearing around the corner of the street. He had an old rusty tin pan tied to his tail, and as this struck him at every jump, he was yelping like mad and trying every way possible to outrun the strange thing that rattled and banged at his heels.
People thrust their heads out of windows and doors. Most of them smiled or laughed outright at the spectacle. It was a time-honored custom, and naturally all stray curs must expect to be treated this way on occasion, to make a holiday for thoughtless boys.
Around the corner several half-grown lads came into view, evidently those who had been the cause of the wretched dog’s dilemma. They were apparently enjoying the sight of the poor creature’s fright and antics about as much as was possible. Several of them nearly doubled up with the excess of their hilarity.
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