revented her accustomed excursions; but not so
with Woggy, he had no duties to keep him, and no wet ground or body of
water could keep him from taking his usual runs about the country. For
several days after the great flood, he was noticed to leave the house
regularly in the morning and not return until evening. This was
something unusual; generally his runs were finished in one or two
hours; but when he was observed one day to take in his mouth the best
part of his breakfast and trot off with it, Edwin's curiosity was
excited, and he resolved to unravel the mystery of Woggy's regular
absences; he followed his tracks over the wet ground for nearly two
miles, until he came to a good sized pond left by the receding waters
in a hollow near the river. The first thing that attracted his
attention was a partially submerged fir tree near the center of the
ford, and lodged against it was a chicken coop. Were there chickens in
it, do you ask? No; if there had been when the angry waves picked it
up there were none now, but instead, the sweetest little _kitten_ you
ever saw; and crouched down on the trunk of the tree, with his
aristocratic paws resting on the end of the coop, was the mysterious
Woggy, gravely contemplating the kitten, as it minced at the food the
generous dog had brought it. How proud Edwin felt of Woggy as he
looked and understood the scene. How Woggy, in his solitary rambles,
must have discovered the forlorn kitten, who had been suddenly torn
from her home, far up the valley perhaps, and borne, half drowned and
thoroughly frightened, on the rushing torrent, until her box, in which
the rising waters had found her taking her afternoon nap, had lodged
against the tree. Edwin wanted to rescue her, and take her home. This
was his first impulse, but how? The pond was wide and deep, and he had
no boat, nor any other means of reaching her; so he decided to wait
until the water got lower, until he could devise some plan. He
returned home in great amazement, and told the story of Woggy's
wonderful doings. Florence was all excitement and sympathy in a
moment, and wanted to go at once but could not. But what a delicious
hugging and petting Woggy got when he returned home that night. When
Edwin found them, the kitten was snuggled up as close to her brute
protector as the slats would allow; she would put her tongue through
and lick his paws, which process seemed to give him the liveliest
satisfaction. Edwin whistled to him to