asleep. Then they crept up by
a back way to Farmer Dodge's house. As expected, Rover came bounding
out at their approach, barking furiously. It was Jake's turn then.

"Rover," he called softly, and whistled. The dog stopped barking and
came on, wagging his tail, but still growling ominously as he got
scent of the strange men.

"Rover, poor Rover," said Jake, stroking his shaggy fur and feeling
like the guilty wretch he was; for just then the hand of Pfeiffer, the
thief, grabbed the throat of the faithful beast in a grip as of an
iron vice, and he had barked his last bark. Struggle as he might, he
could not free himself or breathe, while Jake, the treacherous Jake,
held his legs. And so he died, fighting for his master and his home.

In the morning the ladder at the open window and poor Rover dead in
the yard told of the drama of the night.

The committee of farmers came over and took Jake home, after
congratulating Inspector Byrnes on having so intelligently followed
their directions in hunting down the thieves. The inspector shook
hands with them and smiled.

HOW JIM WENT TO THE WAR

Jocko and Jim sat on the scuttle-stairs and mourned; times were out of
joint with them. Since an ill wind had blown one of the recruiting
sergeants for the Spanish War into the next block, the old joys of the
tenement had palled on Jim. Nothing would do but he must go to the
war.

The infection was general in the neighborhood. Even base-ball had lost
its savor. The Ivy nine had disbanded at the first drum-beat, and had
taken the fever in a body. Jim, being fourteen, and growing "muscle"
with daily pride, "had it bad." Naturally Jocko, being Jim's constant
companion, developed the symptoms too, and, to external appearances,
thirsted for gore as eagerly as a naturally peace-loving, long-tailed
monkey could.

Jocko had belonged to an Italian organ-grinder in the days of "the
persecution," when the aldermen issued an edict, against monkeys. Now
he was "hung up" for rent, unpaid. And, literally, he remained hung up
most of the time, usually by his tail from the banisters, in which
position he was able both to abet the mischief of the children, and
to elude the stealthy grabs of their exasperated elders by skipping
nimbly to the other side.

The tenement was one of the old-fashioned kind, built for a better
use, with wide, oval stairwell and superior opportunities for
observation and escape. Jocko inhabited the well by day,