had acted strangely, whimpering and watching the timber-trail; and
at last when night came on, in spite of attempts to detain him he
had set out in the gloom and guided by a knowledge that is beyond
us had reached the spot in time to avenge me as well as set me
free.

Stanch old Bing--he was a strange dog. Though his heart was with
me, he passed me next day with scarcely a look, but responded
with alacrity when little Gordon called him to a gopher-hunt. And
it was so to the end; and to the end also he lived the wolfish life
that he loved, and never failed to seek the winter-killed horses and
found one again with a poisoned bait, and wolfishly bolted that;
then feeling the pang, set out, not for Wright's but to find me, and
reached the door of my shanty where I should have been. Next day
on returning I found him dead in the snow with his head on the sill
of the door--the door of his puppyhood's days; my dog to the last in
his heart of hearts--it was my help he sought, and vainly sought,
in the hour of his bitter extremity.

THE SPRINGFIELD FOX

I

THE HENS had been mysteriously disappearing for over a month;
and when I came home to Springfield for the summer holidays it
was my duty to find the cause. This was soon done. The fowls
were carried away bodily one at a time, before going to roost or
else after leaving,

which put tramps and neighbors out of court; they were not taken