The free press. (Poplarville, Miss.) 1890-19??, 1895-05-09

VI "itiloH1 HoHey, ulu HOC euIer,
found no answer, and was politely
bowed out.
Ihe climax came in an interview
with Flora, in which she wept, but de-
clnred that she must obey her father.
That evening Bobo waited in vain
for word or whistle, and the next,
and the next, and the next also. Max
stayed at homo and painted nothing
and smoked and drank instead. In
week the state of his mind was some
thing terrible; he was more than
ready for any desperate deed, and he
decided that, since he could not share
his life with Flora, he would get rid
of it altogether. To this end, he went
out in his slippers to neighboring
shop and bought hook and a piece of
clothes line.
He returned and locked the door
and drew the table to the middle of
the room and drove the hook into the
centre beam carefully. Then he made
a slip-knot in the rope, and arranged
it to fit his throat. Then he jumped
down and found pen, ink and paper,
and wrote q farewell note to Flora and
climbed to the table again,
Bobo by this time considered it his
duty to ascertain exactly what was 60
ing on. His masters face wore an ex-
preston of despair, and dogs can un-
derstand expression. Moreover, there
was something very wrong about the
whole complication. Bobo put both
paws upon the table, turned his nose
upward, opened his great yellow eyes
to their full width and gave vent to
prolonged and woeful howl. Max was
just about to kick away the chair when
it struck his ear. He looked down.
Farewell, old dog" he said; "my
only friend, farewell. You are con-
slant; you are true. You love me, l
know. You will mourn me.
And then it came into his mind that
Bobo would have cause to mourn.
That once more he would be homeless,
friendless, kicked from every door,
abused by children, barked at by we'll
fed dogs, scratched by angry cats, and
carried at last perhaps to the pound.
To this he left his faithful dog, his
last friend.
"And, by George, l won't do it,
said Max still on his perch with the
rope about his neck. you've been
true to me, Bobo, and I'll bear my
misery rather than leave you to suffer.
Bobo, old dog, it's great thing to
die for any one I'm going to do
more for you; I'm going to live for
you"
And Max unknotted the rope,
jumped off the table, and flung himself
down upon the floor beside Bobo, who
licked his face. and danced in ecstacy.
That night Bobo slept with his mas
ter before the fire. Sometimes Max
reused from the feverish hali-sleep in
which he lost himself, and felt the
rough paws on HE breast, and patted
them.
By dawn he fell sound asleep, and
never awakened until quick, light
rapping at his door startled him to
the consciousness that it was high
noon. He started to his feet and
opened the door. Without was Flora.
"Great Heavens!" cried Max. ''1ou
here!" And he drew her in, forgetful
of his rumpled hair and disordered
cravat.
"Oh Maxi" she cried. 'it is so
strange for me to come, l know-but
l have such good news. OF course,
I'm sorry Uncle William is dead; but
Inever saw him in my life, and he has
left me fortune, and l am of age to-
day; and, Max, darling, l may do as L
please, and papa says so. And, oh,
Max"
And Max took her in his arms and
kissed her.
Whereupon Bobo, quite sure that
matters had reached a happy climax,
leaped about in ecstacy.
Whether Max ever told Flora how
he came to be alive on her arrival, IN
stead of hanging from the hook IN the
ceiling, it is impossible for us to be
quite certain; but one thing we DO
know, and that is, that, to the end OF
his days, no pet poodle, or glossy
King Charles or graceful greyhound