Beautiful Joe - Marshall Saunders (the reading strategies book .TXT) 📗

believe me."

 

Now, Mr. Morris had been brought up in the country, and knew a great

deal about animals, so I was inclined to think he was right. And sure

enough, in a few days, we heard that the colt was dead.

 

Poor James Dobson felt very badly. A number of the neighbors' boys went

into see him, and there he stood gazing at the dead colt, and looking as

if he wanted to cry. Jack was there and I was at his heels, and though

he said nothing for a time, I knew he was angry with the Dobsons for

sacrificing the colt's life. Presently he said, "You won't need to have

that colt stuffed now he's dead, Dobson."

 

"What do you mean? Why do you say that?" asked the boy, peevishly.

 

"Because you stuffed him while he was alive," said Jack, saucily.

 

Then we had to run for all we were worth, for the Dobson boy was after

us, and as he was a big fellow he would have whipped Jack soundly.

 

I must not forget to say that Billy was washed regularly--once a week

with nice-smelling soap and once a month with strong-smelling,

disagreeable, carbolic soap. He had his own towels and wash cloths, and

after being rubbed and scrubbed, he was rolled in a blanket and put by

the fire to dry. Miss Laura said that a little dog that has been petted

and kept in the house, and has become tender, should never be washed and

allowed to run about with a wet coat, unless the weather was very warm,

for he would be sure to take cold.

 

Jim and I were more hardy than Billy, and we took our baths in the sea.

Every few days the boys took us down to the shore and we went in

swimming with them.

 

 

 

 

 

       *       *       *       *       *

 

CHAPTER VII (TRAINING A PUPPY)

"Ned, dear," said Miss Laura one day, "I wish you would train Billy to

follow and retrieve. He is four months old now, and I shall soon want to

take him out in the street."

 

"Very well, sister," said mischievous Ned; and catching up a stick, he

said, "Come out into the garden, dogs."

 

Though he was brandishing his stick very fiercely, I was not at all

afraid of him; and as for Billy, he loved Ned.

 

The Morris garden was really not a garden but a large piece of ground

with the grass worn bare in many places, a few trees scattered about,

and some raspberry and currant bushes along the fence. A lady who knew

that Mr. Morris had not a large salary, said one day when she was

looking out of the dining-room window, "My dear Mrs. Morris, why don't

you have this garden dug up? You could raise your own vegetables. It

would be so much cheaper than buying them."

 

Mrs. Morris laughed in great amusement.

 

"Think of the hens, and cats, and dogs, and rabbits, and, above all, the

boys that I have. What sort of a garden would there be, and do you think

it would be fair to take their playground from them?"

 

The lady said, "No, she did not think it would be fair."

 

I am sure I don't know what the boys would have done without this strip

of ground. Many a frolic and game they had there. In the present case,

Ned walked around and around it, with his stick on his shoulder, Billy

and I strolling after him. Presently Billy made a dash aside to get a

bone. Ned turned around and said firmly, "To heel!"

 

Billy looked at him innocently, not knowing what he meant. "To heel!"

exclaimed Ned again. Billy thought he wanted to play, and putting his

head on his paws, he began to bark. Ned laughed; still he kept saying

"To heel!" He would not say another word. He knew if he said "Come

here," or "Follow," or "Go behind," it would confuse Billy.

 

Finally, as Ned kept saying the words over and over, and pointing to me,

it seemed to dawn upon Billy that he wanted him to follow him. So he

came beside me, and together we followed Ned around the garden, again

and again.

 

Ned often looked behind with a pleased face, and I felt so proud to

think I was doing well; but suddenly I got dreadfully confused when he

turned around and said, "Hie out!"

 

The Morrises all used the same words in training their dogs, and I had

heard Miss Laura say this, but I had forgotten what it meant. "Good

Joe," said Ned, turning around and patting me, "you have forgotten. I

wonder where Jim is? He would help us."

 

He put his fingers in his mouth and blew a shrill whistle, and soon Jim

came trotting up the lane from the street. He looked at us with his

large, intelligent eyes, and wagged his tail slowly, as if to say,

"Well, what do you want of me?"

 

"Come and give me a hand at this training business, old Sobersides,"

said Ned, with a laugh. "It's too slow to do it alone. Now, young

gentlemen, attention! To heel!" He began to march around the garden

again, and Jim and I followed closely at his heels, while little Billy,

seeing that he could not get us to play with him, came lagging behind.

 

Soon Ned turned around and said, "Hie out!" Old Jim sprang ahead, and

ran off in front as if he was after something. Now I remembered what

"hie out" meant. We were to have a lovely race wherever we liked. Little

Billy loved this. We ran and scampered hither and thither, and Ned

watched us, laughing at our antics.

 

After tea, he called us out in the garden again, and said he had

something else to teach us. He turned up a tub on the wooden platform at

the back door, and sat on it, and then called Jim to him.

 

He took a small leather strap from his pocket. It had a nice, strong

smell. We all licked it, and each dog wished to have it. "No, Joe and

Billy," said Ned, holding us both by our collars; "you wait a minute.

Here, Jim."

 

Jim watched him very earnestly, and Ned threw the strap half-way across

the garden, and said, "Fetch it."

 

Jim never moved till he heard the words, "Fetch it." Then he ran

swiftly, brought the strap, and dropped it in Ned's hand. Ned sent him

after it two or three times, then he said to Jim, "Lie down," and turned

to me. "Here, Joe; it is your turn."

 

He threw the strap under the raspberry bushes, then looked at me and

said, "Fetch it." I knew quite well what he meant, and ran joyfully

after it. I soon found it by the strong smell, but the queerest thing

happened when I got it in my mouth. I began to gnaw it and play with it,

and when Ned called out, "Fetch it," I dropped it and ran toward him. I

was not obstinate, but I was stupid.

 

Ned pointed to the place where it was, and spread out his empty hands.

That helped me, and I ran quickly and got it. He made me get it for him

several times. Sometimes I could not find it, and sometimes I dropped

it; but he never stirred. He sat still till I brought it to him.

 

After a while he tried Billy, but it soon got dark, and we could not

see, so he took Billy and went into the house.

 

I stayed out with Jim for a while, and he asked me if I knew why Ned had

thrown a strap for us, instead of a bone or something hard.

 

Of course I did not know, so Jim told me it was on his account. He was a

bird dog, and was never allowed to carry anything hard in his mouth,

because it would make him hard-mouthed, and he would be apt to bite the

birds when he was bringing them back to any person who was shooting with

him. He said that he had been so carefully trained that he could even

carry three eggs at a time in his mouth.

 

I said to him, "Jim, how is it that you never go out shooting? I have

always heard that you were a dog for that, and yet you never leave

home."

 

He hung his head a little, and said he did not wish to go, and then, for

he was an honest dog, he gave me the true reason.

 

 

 

 

 

       *       *       *       *       *

 

CHAPTER VIII (A RUINED DOG)

"I was a sporting dog," he said, bitterly, "for the first three years of

my life. I belonged to a man who keeps a livery stable here in Fairport,

and he used to hire me out to shooting parties.

 

"I was a favorite with all the gentlemen. I was crazy with delight when

I saw the guns brought out, and would jump up and bite at them. I loved

to chase birds and rabbits, and even now when the pigeons come near me,

I tremble all over and have to turn away lest I should seize them. I

used often to be in the woods from morning till night. I liked to have a

hard search after a bird after it had been shot, and to be praised for

bringing it out without biting or injuring it.

 

"I never got lost, for I am one of those dogs that can always tell where

human beings are. I did not smell them. I would be too far away for

that, but if my master was standing in some place and I took a long

round through the woods, I knew exactly where he was, and could make a

short cut back to him without returning in my tracks.

 

"But I must tell you about my trouble. One Saturday afternoon a party of

young men came to get me. They had a dog with them, a cocker spaniel

called Bob, but they wanted another. For some reason or other, my master

was very unwilling to have me go. However, he at last consented, and

they put me in the back of the wagon with Bob and the lunch baskets, and

we drove off into the country. This Bob was a happy, merry-looking dog,

and as we went along, he told me of the fine time we should have next

day. The young men would shoot a little, then they would get out their

baskets and have something to eat and drink, and would play cards and go

to sleep under the trees, and we would be able to help ourselves to legs

and wings of chickens, and anything we liked from the baskets.

 

"I did not like this at all. I was used to working hard through the

week, and I liked to spend my Sundays quietly at home. However, I said

nothing.

 

"That night we slept at a country hotel, and drove the next morning to

the banks of a small lake where the young men were told there would be

plenty of wild ducks. They were in no hurry to begin their sport. They

sat down in the sun on some flat rocks at the water's