Master Frisky/Chapter 14
Obstinate Dan was a pug, and a homely one at that which is saying a good deal. His nose turned up so much that he could hardly see over it; he had a stump of a tail, short legs, and a very bad disposition. But his mistress, Aunt Polly, thought him the most beautiful dog in the world. Sometimes she would try to show me how wonderful he was.
"Dannie," she would say, "come here."
Dan would look at her out of one eye, and wink at me with the other; and then, instead of coming to his mistress, would start for the lounge. At which dear Aunt Polly would cry, "Go under the lounge, I mean." And then she would say to me delightedly, "Don't you see how well Dannie minds?"
I saw, but said nothing.
Kind Aunt Polly lived in the little house nearest the railroad track; and as Dan's kennel was in the front yard, he was nearer to the track than any other dog in town—a fact that he secretly prided himself upon. But at the same time, he was afraid of the trains; and whenever they went by he would bristle up and growl in his deepest tones. But more than all the other trains put together, Dan feared the Red Dragon. This was a long, slow freight that went through at nine o'clock in the evening about the time that Dan was taking his first nap; and to be roused up every night, and to stay awake until it had thundered past, was more than his bad temper could endure, and many were the threats that he made among the dogs against the Red Dragon.
Big Ben, an old coon dog who was often out at night, said that all the trains that went along after dark were red dragons; but this Dan stoutly denied, and as he lived so near the track the dogs were in doubt which to believe.
One evening four or five of the friends were standing on the railroad track, talking about things of interest in Dogtown, when Master Frisky, who was standing with one paw upon a rail, said, "The Red Dragon is coming."
"No, it isn't," said Dan stoutly; "it isn't time for it. And, besides, I can't see the big red eye."
"Put your paw on this rail and see if you feel anything," said Frisky. All of the dogs did as they were told, and had a queer feeling in their legs. "Now listen to the rail," said Frisky. The dogs listened, and could hear a queer snapping in the rail every little while. "That's the Red Dragon," said Frisky again.
"No, it isn't," said Dan as stubbornly as before.
"Look there," cried Ned.
Far down the track—at least a mile away—was the bright headlight of the Red Dragon, steadily growing bigger and brighter.
"The hateful thing!" said Dan with a snarl. "I would like to bite it."
"You hadn't better," said Ned. "A dog was killed not far from here last week because he was on the track."
"It wasn't the Red Dragon that killed him," said Dan. "He is a coward; for when I growl he always goes by faster."
"We had better be getting off the track," said Frisky.
And all of the dogs but Dan went and stood under a tree to watch the Red Dragon go by. Dan still stood upon the track growling. On came the long, heavy train, rumbling and thundering, its one red eye gleaming fiercely, while a shower of sparks was streaming from its funnel.
"Get off the track, Dan!" cried all of the dogs with excited barks.
"I won't!" said Dan with a deep growl.
"Get off, get off, get off!" said the big bell that swung backward and forward on the engine.
"I won't!" said Dan with a deep growl.
"Get off!" said the big bell again.
And the hoarse whistle cried,—
"Quick, quick, quick!"
"I won't!" growled Dan again, but at the same time starting to edge off the track.
He was too late, for the great train had struck him. There was a rush of air, a thunder of wheels, and a heavy thud; and poor, obstinate Dan was lying twenty feet away under a tree, quivering and gasping for breath, with the blood streaming from his nose and mouth, and with a terrible gash in his head.
The dogs all ran to his assistance, lapped his wounds, and spoke to him; but he did not move or answer.
Just then Aunt Polly came running out.
"Oh, Dannie, Dannie!" she cried, "they have killed you!"
She picked him up in her arms, and carried him into the house, and laid him tenderly on the best sofa, and then sent for the dog doctor.
When he saw poor Dan he shook his head.
"I am afraid he will die," he said; "but I will do what I can for him."
So he bathed his wounds and sewed up his head. This was very painful, for he used a sharp needle and took several stitches.
"Oh, dear!" moaned Dan while he was doing it, "if I ever get well I will do as people tell me."
In spite of the doctor's predictions, Dan grew steadily better, until at the end of three weeks he was well enough to be moved out on the piazza, where several of the dogs came to see him. They were very good to him, and did not remind him that they had told him better.
In a couple of months he was nearly as well as ever; but he always had a little limp in one hind leg, and that bad scar on his head. But in other ways he was a changed dog. His obstinacy had entirely disappeared; and instead of disagreeing with everything and everybody, he was very agreeable and social.
The dogs were quick to notice it, and tried to help him.
"How pleasant Dan is!" said Master Frisky to Ned one day. "I don't understand it. Let's not call him Obstinate Dan any more, for he is not obstinate."
"All right," said Ned; "let's tell all of the dogs about it."
And from that day he was never called Obstinate Dan again; but when the dogs saw how kind and obliging he had grown, they gave him another name, which he bears to this day. It is Clever Dan; and if a dog is in trouble, he can find no better friend and comforter than Clever Dan.