Part 13

"We must save him, if we can, Bill. She was here again to-day, and said the dog was such a very valuable one that she didn't know what would happen if he died."

"I judged something of the kind," remarked Bill. "I've got a cousin, over their way: shepherd to Mr. Phipps--him as has Fair Mile Farm. You knows. He come in with him--'twus last Saturday's market--over some tegs; and he called in here, and I do believes 'twus to ask how this un here wus. Said he'd allus liked un. Seemed to know all about un. Said as he and the gen'leman as owns un wus allus together; that he couldn't get about like some; and that he and this dog here was never apart, and seemed to hang together, curious ways like. They'd got some name for the two of 'em down in that part--so he says; but I a'most forgets what 'twus now."

"So I understand. One or two have been to call to ask after him, up at the office, and said much the same."

"Been here himself, hasn't he?" inquired Bill.

"Ay, yesterday. I told him he couldn't see him; or, rather, that if he did, with the dog's heart as rocky as it was, I would not answer for the result. He did not speak a word after that, except--'Do your best'; and went out."

"From what that cousin o' mine said," put in Bill, "I judge if he'd come in, it would a-killed the dog right off." He was smoothing Murphy's ears as he spoke.

"I told him," continued Mr. Charles, "that two things were especially against this dog; one was his high breeding, and the other, his brain development. It's the last I'm most afraid of, though."

"Brain? Clever?" put in Bill--"I should just say he was."

"--And I told him that I had never seen a dog that was easier to treat; and that he was making a real plucky fight for it."

"That's true," said Bill, in a tone as if the words had been "Amen."

"--And that he was that sensible that he allowed us to do just as we liked with him; so good and patient that there was not a man in the yard that wasn't glad to do anything for him."

"True again," broke in Bill, with emphasis.--"Murphy," he said, calling the dog by name. "Whew! Another hot day, I judge; coming light afore long." Bill was looking at the sky.

"All against him; all against him," returned the other. "But there, I shall be downright sorry if we lose him now."

Bill shook his head. "See all as has been done ... and the telegrams ... and the letters, and ..."

The conversation of the two men was stopped by a low bark from the dog.

"Dreaming," said Bill; "does a lot o' sleep."

"Brain," said the other, listening--"I feared as much all along. It's all up, Bill."

Bill was down, and had got one of his hands under the dog's head.

The bark came again: only a very weak one; not enough to disturb anybody near. It became continuous after that; grew a little louder; then gradually fainter.

Perhaps he was hunting birds, though it may be doubted. More likely he was working to the hand over the sunlit fields, in the glad air, with a full life all before him yet; and in the company of one whom he loved with his whole heart, and to whom, while learning constantly himself, he, a dog, had taught no end of things.

There can be little doubt that he was working by the hand. Of course he was. But the hand that was beckoning him now was from over the border--from the land where there is room for both the man and the dog, and where there shall be a blessed reunion with old friends.

The bark died away: Murphy was dead.

"Not five years; or only just," remarked Bill.

Both men heaved a sigh.

Day was breaking as they walked away together down the yard.

* * * * *

A few days later came this, written by one whose business it was to tend the sick and the suffering among animals; to whom their passing was no rare event; and who must have had many thousands through his hands:

"I am so very sorry; but it was really a happy release after the brain symptoms had developed.