kitchen door, of a poor wounded dog, who dragged himself out from
the woods back of the house, and lay down on the step, evidently
in great pain.

Ruth saw him as he lay there, panting and moaning, and ran to tell
Mark, and her father and mother, of their visitor and his wretched
plight. They all went to see him, and after a careful examination
of the suffering animal, Mr. Elmer said he had been cruelly
treated and badly wounded; but that, with proper treatment and
care, he could be cured. "He is a cross between a pointer and a
hound," continued Mr. Elmer, "and looks like a valuable dog. The
wounds from which he is suffering are those caused by a charge of
small shot, that must have been fired into him quite recently. I
will do what I can for him, and then I shall turn him over to you
and Ruth, Mark, and if he recovers he shall belong to you both.
His present owner has forfeited all claim to him by cruel
treatment, for without our care now the poor beast would certainly
die. The first thing to do is to give him water, for he is very
feverish."

The dog seemed to know, as well as his human friends, that the
pain he suffered, while most of the shot were extracted on the
point of a pen-knife, was for his good; for while he moaned and
whined during the operation, he lay perfectly still, and did not
offer the slightest resistance. After his wounds had been dressed,
he was carefully removed to a bed of soft moss on the back porch,
and here he lay quietly, only feebly wagging his tail whenever any
of his new friends came to see him.

"Who could have shot this dog?" and "Why did the animal drag