t he
was, he loved the weakest one best; and, therefore, little Kitty was
never without a friend and protector. Ever since a certain day in the
summer, when she had fallen into the stream, and had been carried home
insensible by Bouncer, Kitty had loved the huge mastiff dearly, and
nightly added to her simple prayer, "Please, God, bless dear Bouncer,
too!"

And Bouncer _was_ blessed beyond most dogs. Gentle as a baby when
Kitty's arm was about his neck, he was fierce as a lion when fierceness
was required. His great white teeth were a terror to evil-doers, and his
bark in the dead of night would make venturesome bears sneak back into
the forest like kittens.

Often would Mrs. Hedden say to her neighbors, that with "husband's rifle
and Bouncer's teeth, she felt that she lived in a fortress. As for the
children," she would add, laughingly, "I scarcely ever feel any anxiety
about them, when I know that Bouncer has joined their little
expeditions. He is a regiment in himself."

II.

EXPLORING THE STREAM.

One of the favorite holiday resorts of Bessie and Rudolph was a lovely
spot in the forest, not a quarter of a mile from the house. Shaded by
giant oaks, whose gnarled roots lay like serpents, half hidden in the
moss, ran a streamlet, covered with sunny speckles, where parted leaves
admitted the sunshine. Flowers grew along its banks in wild profusion,
and it held its wayward course with many a rippling fall and fantastic
turn, until it was lost in the shades of the forest.

"Where does it go to, I wonder?" the children often would say to each
other, longing for permission to follow its windings farther than the
limits prescribed by their parents would allow.

"To the ocean, of course," Rudolph would answer, triumphantly; while
Bessie, looking at its golden ripple, and listening to its musical song,
half believed that it carried its wealth of sparkling jewels to
Fairyland itself.

Sometimes, when Bouncer was with them, they lingered so long by the
mysterious streamlet, sending chip boats adrift upon its surface, or
trying to adjust troublesome little water-wheels under some of its tiny
cascades, that Mrs. Hedden would blow the big horn as a signal for their
return; and as they ran home, playing with Bouncer by the way, or
scolding him for shaking his wet sides under their very faces, they
would inwardly resolve to coax father to take them up the stream on the
very first pleasant Saturday.

Accordingly,