Extended at his
left side was Vic, held closely under his left arm, her plumy tail
hanging dejectedly in my direction. An occasional dispirited wag
showed that she appreciated the kindness being shown her. The boy was
evidently busy at something that elicited from the animal, every now
and then, faint cries of pain. I heard something snap, and saw him lay
two parts of an arrow on the ground to his right; then he drew a
handkerchief from his pocket, dipped it in the brook, and apparently
washed a wound.
All the time the boy could be heard addressing his patient in soothing
tones, occasionally leaning his face against her head caressingly.
"Poor little Vicky! Nice, brave doggie! There, there; I will not hurt
you more than I can help. They can't shoot you again, girlie, for lots
of your friends are here now. You shall ride back to the train on
Chiquita with me. We'll own Chiquita together after this."
I felt a little delicacy about breaking in upon this scene and letting
the boy know I had overheard all his fond talk to Vic, so withdrew
into a clump of bushes and began calling the dog.
Pages:
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112