ers a
multitude of sins.

The fun, however, was considerably dampened, on Frank's part, as he
approached the house. "Bow, wow!" suddenly spoke the deep, dreadful tones
of the rebel mastiff. He hated the national uniform as intensely as his
master did, and came bounding towards Frank as if his intention was to
eat him up at once.

Now, the truth is, Frank was afraid of the dog. His heart beat fast, his
flesh felt an electric chill, and there was a curious stirring in the
roots of his hair. The dog came right on, bristling up as large as two
dogs, opening his ferocious maw, and barking and growling terribly. Then
the fun of the thing was still more dampened, to the boy's appreciation,
by a sudden suspicion. Why had his companions thrust the most perilous
part of the enterprise upon him, the youngest of the party? It was mean;
it was cowardly; and the whole affair was intended to make sport for the
rest, by getting him into a scrape. So, at least, thought Frank.

"But I'll show them I've got some pluck," said something within him,
proud and determined.

To fear danger is one thing. To face it boldly, in spite of that fear, is
quite another. The first is common; the last is rare as true courage. The
dog came straight up to Frank, and Frank marched straight up to the dog.

"Even if I had known he would bite," said Frank, afterwards, "I'd have
done it." For he did not know at the time that this was the very best way
to avoid being bitten. The dog, astonished by this straightforward
proceeding, and probably thinking that one who advanced unflinchingly,
with so brave a face, without weapons, must have honest business with his
master, stepped aside, and growlingly let him pass.

"Where's your master?" said Frank, coolly, to an old negro, who was
shuffling across the yard. "I want to see him a minute."

"Yes, massa," said the black, pulling at his cap, and bowing
obsequiously.

He disappeared, and presently "old Buckley" came out, looking worthy to
be the dog's master.

"Perhaps," thought Frank, "if I treat him in the same way, he won't bite,
either;" and he walked straight up to him. The biped did not bark or
growl, as the quadruped had done, but he looked wickedly at the intruder.

"How about those turkeys?" said Frank.

"What turkeys?" returned the man, surlily.

"It is Christmas now, and I thought you might be ready to sell some of
them," continued Frank, nothing daunted.

"I've no turkeys to sell," said the m