up in a cloth, and moaning with pain, but still I looked out occasionally to see which way we were going. We took the road to the town, and stopped in front of a house on Washington Street. The young man leaned his bicycle up against the house, took a quarter from his pocket and put it in the boy's hand, and lifting me gently in his arms, went up a lane leading to the back of the house.
There was a small stable there. He went into it, put me down on the floor, and uncovered my body. Some boys were playing about the stable, and I heard them say in horrified tones, "Oh, Cousin Harry, what is the matter with that dog?"
"Hush," he said. "Don't make a fuss. You, Jack, go down to the kitchen, and ask Mary for a basin of warm water and a sponge, and don't let your mother or Laura hear you."
A few minutes later, the young man had bathed my bleeding ears and tail, and had rubbed something on them that was cool and pleasant, and had bandaged them firmly with strips of cotton. I felt much better, and was able to look about me.
I was in a small stable, that was evidently not used for a stable, but more for a play room. There were various kinds of toys scattered about, and a swing and bar, such as boys love to twist about on, in two different corners. In a box against the wall, was a guinea pig looking at me in an interested way. This guinea pig's name was Jeff, and he and I became good friends. A long-haired, French rabbit was hopping about, and a tame white rat was perched on the shoulder of one of the boys, and kept his foothold there, no matter how suddenly the boy moved. There were so many boys, and the stable was so small, that I suppose he was afraid he would get stepped
