Telegram-herald., 1890-03-03

beneath the silky hair tAa. hung oyei
them, ana ho looked - keen snd eai.k
nat ohe felt obliged 10 DC very clezl
snd precise with hiu, because he had
ne air Of rot being akle 70 lose any
slms in foolisaness.
b2zg! bang bang. would 60 The gong
The horses would spring forward,
trsnphng the door with their sounding
h0ofS, and a. the same moment lingo )
CHEEKY bark VAS heard as he soarrled
around ia mad anxiety - get every
body OF al right 70 pat cat the 1ee- Oh,
how important he felt when the alarm
Mss given and he felt called on 10 con-
tribute TO the good OF the community by
his generous efforts,
After the engine had started out he
tore along ahead of ii about half a
square, turning round now and then TO
see that il was following, and dodging
around among the feet Of the horses and
the teams that he met. He barked all
this time with tremendous sense Of
his importance, as il proclaiming:
Clear the way, good folk! Clear the
way. There is q fire and We are in a
hurry 10 put il out"
Bingo used 70 follow the men who
went into the burning building, and
would frequently make his way 10 the
roof. II was his chief del light 10 get
near the pipeman who held the nozzle
OF the hose-pipe and directed the dis
charge of the water upon the fire.
-, g. Il 81 u. Iafx
ing 10 extinguish the flames when he
was near the hose-pipe. Who could
question his utility then?
When the fire was out be trotted back
with the proudest air of complacency.
and upon returning 10 the engine-house
he would frisk around Farley as IL
courting attention and praise for his
services.
But when his master would put Hngo
through his PAGES and exhibit the whole
round of his accomplishments TO visit
ors, he was quite another animal. His
relationship 10 the elegant Frou-Frou
became apparent then. His wool was
as fine as silk, and every morning he
was washed and scrubbed and his beau.
tiful hair combed.
He had around his neck neat collar
of russell leather with small spike-heads
in it, and his name Bingo engraved
on little silver plate. He looked quite
a dandy, and his eyes shone like jet
through the long, crinkly hair that
hung over them.
Farley was very fond Of Bingo; who
could help being fond of such a bright.
faithful, affectionate poodle as be was?
You have been told at the start that
Bingo was cut of in his beautiful prime.
Long before his legs began to get stiff,
or his memory TO fail him, Bingo died.
There was a certain fittingness in the
manner of his taking off, because Bingo
was, above all, fire-dog. He was a
trick-dog for the amusement of others,
but he was a fire-dog through philan-
thropy and natural bent. His death oc-
CURED in this way:
One cold, bright night in December
the alarm of fire sounded in the engine
house. The horses sprang before the
engine. There was the rush of firemen,
but there occurred for some reason or
other a moments delay. Bingo was
skipping around in great distress of
mind at this hinarance. There was that
fire burning and whore was he?
AS soon as the doors were opened he
charged madly forward. Some one was
in his way, however, and in dodging him
he flung himself against a door-post.
The shock was so great that he was
thrown back and fell under the hoofs of
the horses as they charged out. A heavy
hoof with its iron shoe crushed down
upon his side.
Poor Bingo! When the engine had
passed over him he feebly and painfully
dragged himself toward one of the stalls
for the horses. He was painting and
once or twice he uttered feeble whine.
There was not one of those be loved
most near at hand to comfort him. They
were at the fire. He would never go TO
fire again. He raised his head and
looked around the familiar enginehouse
with sigh; then his head fell heavily
to the ground and Bingo was dead.
When they came back from the fire
and found the poor dog stiff and cold,
film over his jet-black eyes, the men
felt bad enough, especially Farley. The
lost poodle had lived a noble life-for
poodle-and had died in harness, which
was somewhat of a consolation 10 those
who mourned him. So poor Bingo was
buried decentiy and his joyous bark vas
missed in the engine-house, where he is
still remembered.-John J. Beckett,
in Youths Companion.