Milford chronicle., 1885-04-03

was more probable, II MS son mad lifted
up his voice in this way for any length
of time in his presence.
'You bet r.
As the boy uttered these words a
fash fiereely darted through his tears.
"He's been killin' hens.
"Who has ?"
'Max. And now father ups and pre-
tends he's mad. D."
Alas need not teach this child sus-
picion.
The sobs were subsiding indignation
was now gaining the field.
1 did not see what 1 could do, and
was just about to reenter the library,
when the boys face lighted up in a
wonderful way, and he cried ont:
'Here he is now y
Quick rs light he inserted two fingers
in bis mouth and made that unearthly
call which is like nothing else under
the sun, and which could be produced
by none of Gods creatures save a boy.
A large black dog had been saunter-
ing across the corner Of the street,
dragging, in dignitied way, about two
yards Of rope, which evidently had been
violently severed at the end.
The dog instantly proved that he was
familiar with the sound of that whistle.
He came bounding across the road, and
greeted the boy with demonstration of
exceeding Joy. Knowing with the di-
rect intuitiveness of their kind that 1
was a friend, he turned to me anl
thrust his cold nose into my hand,
which hung by my side; then looked
up at me with pair of the loveliest light
brown eyes that were ever in the head
of a Newfoundland. Wide apart they
were set, and there was a high bump
between his ears. When you see that
bump on a dogs head, you may he sure
that he knows almost as much as you
do.
1t is not a hard matter for dog 20
win my heart, and Max had done it
completely.
The boy, who said his name was An
drew Jackson Jones, more commonly
known as Jack Jones, dropped his book
for woman of forty down on the mud
dy floor OF the piazza, and gave Max
an ecstatic hug with both arms about
the shaggy neck.
The dog gurgled and choked some
what, but took this caress in good part,
looking up to me and telling me that
his friend was all right, and was only
glad to see him.
Being released, Max Immediately
made an attempt to pick up the book,
and succeeded in taking it by the mid
die portion of the leaves, the covers
hanging down and fiapping as he shook
it violently back and forth.
Jack executed a kind of dive at the
scene, and rescued the book.
He looked mp at me and said, with
some triumph:
"That's the way he does to the hens"
l began TO see the side of the shield
upon which the father Of Andrew JacK-
son Jones had been gasIsaE BV$us felt
that this dog must b saVgg. ,-as surely
ready in love with Max. 1e VIZ of such
young enough to be broken " ~
sins >n-1Ss u. q
"Where do you liveF- I asked the
child.
"Over in the Ville," mentioning a
place where many of the people work
ing in the factories lived.
"I'll come round and see your father
tomorrow morning" Ianswered. "Now
you go home and tie Max, so that he
won't get into any mischief before { see
you"
Jacks face was now so bright that, if
it had been clean, I thought it would
have been handsome.
He started of, leading the dog by the
rope.
He had not gone many yards before
he turned round and asked:
"Where do You live, your own self?"
/ told him. I had occasion to think
that it was lucky L did tell
him.
The library closed at eight o'clock. 1t
was not yet half past that hour and
had only been at home few moments,
when l heard the sound of feet running
rapidly in the yard, and then a knock
on the door; n knock which seemed to
have been made with a fist.
1 hastened to respond to this sum-
mons.
There was full moon in n cloudless
sky, and in this brilliant light stood
Jack Jones. He was crying, but his
eyes were dilated with strong emotion,
and his face was white.
"Come quick - he cried ont, taking
hold of the skirt of my dress. "Father's
been a-drinkin'. n Max broke his rope;
n they're goin' to drown him this very
minute Oh I couldn't help it p
The pathos of the last cry went right
to my heart.
I did not know what I could do; but
/ threw a shawl over my head, and ran
along the road with Jack.
did not speak. I needed all my
breath for my running.
1 soon felt sure that our objective
point was a mill-pond, about quarter
of mile away. The faster went the
more indignant grew.
What brute that man must be !
recalled the dogs familiar and loving
to me, and my sympathy with
Jack grew stronger.
"There they be r. in stiAed voice,
cried Jack, pointing to two figures ap-
preaching the railing that was between
the road and the pond.
From this fence one could look over
into the broad, deep water that lay be-
low.
On the other side was the little brown
building of the grst mill. The gate
was down now, and there was no rush
Of water underneath the road.
The two figures were man and dog.
The man led the dog by a rope and al
most Immediately they stopped, and 1
saw that a stone was being fastened by
the rope. A heavy, cruel stone it was,
too.
Just as the trembling fingers had |
lied the knot, Jack and I were on the
scene.
"Mr. Jones'" said I, quickly and |
gNsping somewhat for breath, "will you
sell that dog2"
1t was plain that Mr.. Jones was
about as drunk as he could be and |
walk about.
He looked up at me in a sodden way,
md his expression had something very
obstinate in it.
''Dog's running mad !" he said, thick
y. "Sha'n't sell no mad dog"
Jack had flung himself down on the
yround beside Max, and was holding
lis friend to him with frantic intensity
hat was all the more touching because /