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Read Ebook: Boy the Wandering Dog: Adventures of a Fox-Terrier by Saunders Marshall
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Ebook has 2702 lines and 88356 words, and 55 pages
BOOK ONE: MY LIFE IN THE CITY
I I SEEK AND FIND A FRIEND 13
II I LOSE MY FRIEND 23
V AN OLD FRIEND, AND AN ADVENTURE 57
VI BEANIE LOSES HIS HOME 63
X MASTER GETS TWO SHOCKS 97
BOOK TWO: MY LIFE IN THE COUNTRY
XX THE REFORMED SHOWMAN 221
FACING PAGE
"YOU MUST HAVE A DRINK FIRST," SAID GRINGO HOSPITABLY 24
BEANIE WAS QUITE HANDSOME NOW 100
THE LADY GAY CAT 148
IN THE HOUSE NEXT TO ME WAS A FINE LITTLE TOY SPANIEL CALLED AMARILLA 178
KING HARRY, THE BEST SPECIMEN OF A BLOODHOUND I EVER SAW 216
REDDY O'MARE CAME TROTTING ROUND THE CORNER OF THE BARN 310
BOOK ONE: MY LIFE IN THE CITY
I claim that we dogs are better friends to men than men are to themselves.... You, doubting man, say "No."
Well then, give me offhand and quickly, the name of a single friend of yours who never criticises you, who lives for you only, labors for you, fights for you, would die for you, and all as a matter of course, and without thought of reward.... I note you are silent.... Well, I can name you a million dogs who, if they loved you, would live, labor, fight and die for you cheerfully and bravely, and without knowing or caring whether they were doing anything unusual or singular, or at all out of the ordinary.
BOY, The Wandering Dog.
THE WANDERING DOG
BOOK ONE: MY LIFE IN THE CITY
I SEEK AND FIND A FRIEND
A few months ago, I came in the course of my wanderings, to the city of New York. My! My! how the big city has grown since I was here a few years ago.
I entered it by way of a ferry-boat from Jersey City. Then I scampered up past City Hall, the Hotel de Gink, and the Tombs to the Bowery.
Of course, the first thing was to make a friend. I chose a solemn-looking bulldog, sitting round the corner from a saloon whose huge, bulging window looked like a big eye staring down the street. The dog, who was brindle in colour, and had a tremendous head, sat tight up against the wall, and was keeping a wary eye out for something, I know not what.
"Good afternoon," I said politely, and not going too close to him.
"How d'ye do," he said morosely. Then he looked up at the elevated.
That's the worst of a big city. No dog that's worth knowing cares a rap about you, unless you force yourself on his attention.
"Oh! Come off the L," I said brusquely.
You see, I recognised at once, that he was a bluff, matter-of-fact dog who would not appreciate frills.
He did come off, and gave me a glance.
"You're no fairy," he said hoarsely.
"No, and I'm no crazy cur, either," I replied. "If I were, you New York dogs would fall all over each other to entertain me. You've got to be either a beauty, a crank or a millionaire, to get on in this city."
"How did you like Virginia?" he asked, with a twist of his under-jaw.
I'm a pretty self-possessed dog, but I could not help starting a bit. "How did you know I have been in Virginia?" I asked sharply.
He gave a snicker. "I know you're from the South, for you're shivering on this mild day, and Virginia is the nearest state south that has the exact shade of that lovely red mud sticking to your hind leg."
"I'm not a Southern dog," I said hastily.
"You needn't go out of your way to get hot telling me that," he retorted. "You haven't the slick repose of manner of the Southern dog."
"Well, I'm glad I've struck a four-legged Sherlock Holmes," I remarked good-naturedly. "You're just the fellow to tell me where to go to get a square meal."
"Why don't you trot uptown for your first feed?" he asked with a relaxing of his sour expression, for he liked being compared to the famous detective.
I smiled. There was no need to say anything, yet I said it. "Uptown's fine, after you have an introduction. Downtown doesn't ask so many questions."
"Ha! Ha!" he laughed gruffly. "I like you. Come right in--I'll share bones and tit-bits with you for a night. Follow me," and he shuffled round the corner toward the family entrance of the saloon. There he pushed his flat skull against a door in the wall, and entered a yard about as big as a pocket handkerchief.
"Not many yards in the Bowery now," he said hoarsely. "Happened to be a fire next door that burnt a building to the ground, and fencing in the vacant lot, gives us a place to stretch our legs."
"Good gracious!" I said. "The city is getting darker and darker."
"Yes, yes," I said hastily. "I know--it's a habitation not mentioned in polite dog circles."
"What's the matter with you?" he asked in his choked voice. "If you're too good for your company, get out."
"I'm not," I said hurriedly. "I like you. You're a regular sport."
"I used to be," he said, settling down on the straw with a groan, "but my joints--the rheumatiz has got me. I'm not like I used to be--Come on now, reel off your life yarn. I've got an hour to spare. What's your name, and where were you born, and where are you going?"
"With your powers of observation, you ought to be able to answer all those questions for yourself," I said demurely.
He looked me all over, with his fine dark eyes. "You haven't got a name," he said with a snort, "or rather you have many names. You're a travelling dog. You were born anywhere, and you don't know where you're going."
I burst into such a delighted yell of laughter that he told me to shut up, or some one might hear us.
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