thumped the box once with his tail, and a look of joy and relief came into Ned's face. He gave his friend a good kiss, and went out to tell the other dogs that Master Frisky was not dead, but terribly wounded. Then they all trotted off home, a sorrowful looking lot.
There was very little going on in dogtown for the next week. The old dogs gathered at their accustomed places and talked in deep growls or whispers, and even the pups seemed to understand the grief that lay heavy upon dogtown.
But Ned did not go when the others did; he came back and scratched at the door. I let him in again; and he took up his station by Frisky's box, and did not leave it until I sent him home in the evening. In the morning when I got up I found him lying on the mat by the kitchen door, and on hearing me he scratched to be let in. And so it was every day. No matter how early I arose I would always find Ned at the door, waiting.
When once in the house he would lie down by Frisky, where he would remain all day, only moving when I came to attend to his friend.
For about a week poor Frisky seemed to have a high fever. He would moan and toss about in his box, and sometimes bark and growl as though he was having a bad dream.
Ned had a worried, anxious look, and he grew poor every day.
