A DOG'S OWN STORY I am a collie, and my name is Don. When I was very young I lived in the country with some people who kept a great many horses. I slept in the barn, and there I made friends with a race horse who sometimes shared his stall with me. The name of the race horse was Silvermane, and he was a beautiful fellow-so tall and slender and graceful. He used to tell me wonderful stories of the races he had won, and how proud it made him feel to go like the wind and have everybody cheering as he reached the winning post. My young master was very fond of dogs and horses, and he often rode out across the fields and through the woods with a pack of hounds at his heels. I didn't care much for the hounds, for I didn't like their manners; but I loved all the horses, they were such fine fellows. One day Silvermane looked so unhappy that I asked him what was the matter. He whinnied softly in my ear and said that he was only uneasy about our master. "He will ride that new sorrel colt," he said, "and I'm afraid there'll be an accident some day. The colt is gentle enough, but it stumbles often, and if it should fall with the master when he is riding hard, he may be badly hurt. I wish he would always let me carry him." Silvermane was quite right. Before another week had passed, the sorrel colt stumbled and threw my master against a stone wall. They picked him up and carried him home; but I don't know what they did with him, for we were all shut up in the stables and not allowed to go out for several days. Then when we were set free I looked everywhere for the master, but I never saw him again. After a while a whole family of boys and girls came to the house, and each one was given a dog. The bigger boys chose the hounds, but I was taken by a jolly little chap named Arthur. My child master had blue eyes and long golden hair, and he was never afraid of anything. I loved Arthur very much, and it was my delight to follow him wherever he went. I can never forget the time when the child took it into his head to play Brave Knight. A long way from our house there was an old building that had once been used as a mill. The children had been told never to go there alone; but I think Arthur had forgotten, or perhaps he had not heard aright when the caution was given to the other boys. Early one morning, when nobody was near, the child slipped out by the back way, and I followed him as usual. 66 'Come, Don," he said, "I am the Knight of the Green Forest, and I am going home to my castle. You are my squire and must do as I bid you." So he trudged along through the woods, swinging his wooden sword in the air, and boasting how he would defend his castle against every enemy. When we reached the old mill, I tried to persuade him to return home; for it was a lonely, dangerous place, and I didn't like it. But instead of doing as I wished, he played that I was an enemy who had come to attack his castle. He charged upon me with his sword, made me his prisoner, and dragged me into a dark room which he called a dungeon. I suppose that this kind of play was very amusing to him, but it was not so to me. During all that pleasant morning, he played at driving make-believe enemies away from his castle, while I lay in the dungeon as a prisoner. I was very glad when he became tired of being a brave knight. It must have been about noon when he threw open the dungeon door and gave me my freedom. "Come, Don," he said, "we'll just explore the old tower, and then we'll go home to dinner." He squeezed through a narrow door at the foot of some stairs, and I followed him. When he saw how the stairs reached up to a kind of tower on the roof, he was so excited that he did not notice how rotten they were and ready to fall. He wouldn't listen to me when I tried to tell him of the danger, but rushed upward as fast as he could climb. The next moment there was an awful crash, and we were both thrown backward and downward with great force. The air was full of dust and falling pieces of rotted timber. I got upon my feet as quickly as I could, and looked around. The door was so filled with what had fallen that there was not room enough to squeeze my body through it. Half covered over by the ruins, my little master was lying white and still with part of a heavy beam across one leg. I scrambled up to him and licked his face. He opened his eyes, but could not speak. I tried to find some way to get out of the dreadful place, but there was none. I could do nothing but sit by my master and try to cheer him a little. I don't know how long I sat there, but it seemed hours and hours. Then I began to grow desperate. Just above us there was a hole in the wall it may have been a small window. It was very high, but a broken beam had fallen so that one end rested against |