Wheeling register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1878-1935, 1900-11-08
WHAT HAPPENED TO FEB.

| Chicago News.
The Crugers couldn't imagine what
allied their dog. Sam Cruger bought
| him at a fancy price from reputable
| fancier, and took him out to their
Michigan avenue home. In June the
family went to the mountains and
Sam was left at home with a groom
and two maid servants. Zeb, the new
setter, stayed with Sam, who built him
a fine kennel, with really luxurious
appointments. Sam went to business
every morning at 8 and Gubbins, the
groom, took charge of Zeb until 5 in
the evening. Things went along for
week and Sam was delighted with
the affectionate way Zeb would greet
him every afternoon as he got out of
the trap in the stable yard. One day,
however, Zeb was missing, and though
search was made for him he couldn't
be found.
Sam advertised, but before the ink
was dry on the type zeb came crawl
ing back to his kennel with an air that
said to Gubbins: Don't disturb me-"
Zeb slept all day and Gubbins thought
he was sick. But at o'clock Zeb was
joyously barking at his master, who
admonished him to be a good dog and
stay with Gubbins. Zeb wagged his
tail and obeyed-for three weeks.
Then he disappeared again. This
time he stayed awey three days and
came home on the fourth, crawling
into his kennel as before and going to
sleep with the same sort Of injunction
to Gubbins not to modest him. Cub
bins shifted and carried tales to Sam.
Il suspect that somebody's enticin
him away, Mr. SAM" said Gubbins,
and Sam said to lock him in the stable
at night So Zeb was locked UP at
dark, but made the nights SO hideous
that he was put back in his kennel.
All summer long he continued his pc
riodical absences. Sam concluded he
got beast with tramp blood in him
and he went to the dealer and raised
merry Ned. But the dealer was calm
and proved his case. Zeb was good
dog and there was no tramp blood
about him.
well, he's got e. mix In him some
where, argued Sam tenaciously, "for
he's packing on useless meat like pug
and his frame doesn't grow to match.
Settlers don't get fat, not when they're
pups; how do you figure 1t out?"
Fat? The fancier couldn't explain.
Was Sam feeding him correctly? Yes,
Sam was feeding him correctly. The
last of September the family came
back to town. Sans small brother
Artie went wild over Zeb. The two
became inseparable and used to go on
long jaunts with Jude, the pony. One
day Artie came into Sans Office
breathless with excitement.
Il say, Sam, come out and get your
dog. l think he's dying"
Where is he?"
Artie led the way to brewery on
the south side, where they found Zeb
lying in the shade wagging his tail
while a benevolent looking fat man
scratched his head. At sound of his
masters voice Zeb tried to struggle
to his feet. but failed.
'Eh? Your dog?" said the fat man
to Sam, without ceasing to scratch.
Eyes, he's my dog; but what have
you been doing to him?"
Doing to him? L? Nothing. He's
a fine dog. He's been coming here off
and on all summer. He likes the leak
ings from the vats.''
What! The beer? Does that dog
get drunk?" calculated Sam.
''Oh, well now, that's hard name
for it, said the fat man. mo he's
just happy, and when he's had enough
and can carry himself he goes home
like a gentleman. You see he's rest
ing now; he'll be home in the morn
ing"
And, sure enough, Zeb was.