n the men had gone to the
fields, that summer morning, we lifted Fred into the little wagon in
which he had once drawn me and starting back of the barn stole away
with him through the deep grass of the meadow until we came out upon the
highroad far below. We had planned to take him to school and make him a
nest in the woodshed where he could share our luncheon and be out of the
way of peril. After a good deal of difficulty and heavy pulling we
got to the road at last. The old dog, now blind and helpless, sat
contentedly in the wagon while its wheels creaked and groaned beneath
him. We had gone but a short way in the road when we heard the red
bridge roar under rushing wheels and the familiar yell of Abe.

'We'd better run,' said Hope, ''er we'll git swore at.'

I looked about me in a panic for some place to hide the party, but Abe
was coming fast and there was only time to pick up clubs and stand our
ground.

'Here!' the man shouted as he pulled up along side of us, 'where ye
goin' with that dog?'

'Go 'way,' I answered, between anger and tears, lifting my club in a
threatening manner.

He laughed then--a loud guffaw that rang in the near woods.

'What'll ye give me,' he asked leaning forward, his elbows on his knees,
'What'll ye give me if I don't kill him?'

I thought a moment. Then I put my hand in my pocket and presently took
out my jack-knife--that treasure Uncle Eb had bought for me--and looked
at it fondly.

Then I offered it to him.

Again he laughed loudly.

'Anything else?' he demanded while Hope sat hugging the old dog that was
licking her hands.

'Got forty cents that I saved for the fair,' said I promptly.

Abe backed his horse and turned in the road.

'Wall boy,' he said, 'Tell 'em I've gone home.'

Then his great voice shouted, 'g'lang' the lash of his whip sang in the
air and off he went.

We were first to arrive at the schoolhouse, that morning, and when
the other children came we had Fred on a comfortable bed of grass in a
corner of the woodshed. What with all the worry of that day I said my
lessons poorly and went home with a load on my heart. Tomorrow would be
Saturday; how were we to get food and water to the dog? They asked at
home if we had seen old Fred and we both declared we had not--the first
lie that ever laid its burden on my conscience. We both saved all our
bread and butter and doughnuts next day, but we had so many chores to
do it was impossible to go to the schoolhous