the man took me into the house, which was just as dirty and untidy as the yard and smelt badly, and tied the string to the leg of a table there. he went into another room for a few minutes and i sat there and shivered until he came back. then he took off my nice new collar, with its silver name-plate and silver buckle, and slipped a horrid old leather strap around my neck. he read what it said on the name-plate and then tossed the collar aside.
“you ought to fetch a good price, old boy, if they give you a collar like that,” he said. “come on now.”
so he led me outdoors again and across to the shed where the bulldog was. when the bulldog saw the man come in he howled and ran out quickly. there were some boxes in one corner of the shed that had bars in front of them and i was put into one of these. then the man went out and closed the door behind him.
it was quite dark in there, and cold and damp too, and there was nothing in the box to lie on, and i was very unhappy. i sat and shivered and whimpered for a long time, and it got darker and darker. no one came to see me. i heard the bulldog prowling about outside and sniffing at the door and i heard the man whistle to him once. then it got quite dark and after a while i cried myself to sleep. but i was too cold to sleep soundly and i was very glad when the light began to come back and i knew that it was morning again.
the man brought me two or three bones without much meat on them and a broken dish with some water in it. i didn’t care much for the bones, but wanted the water a good deal. the man left the door open a little when he went out and pretty soon the bulldog came sneaking in.
“well,” he said gruffly, “and where’d he pick you up?”
i told him.
“so you’re one of those pet dogs i’ve heard of,” he sneered. “lie on a cushion and eat cake, they tell me. well, you won’t get any cake here. bones and kicks are all you’ll have now for a while. i know. i’ve lived here four years. pass out one of those bones. they’re mine by rights, anyway.”
i told him he could have them all and pushed them through the bars where he could get them, and he seemed more good-natured after that. he ate them just as though he was half-starved, and growled and growled over them. he had very bad table manners. after he had chewed them until there was nothing left on them he laid down and we talked.
he wasn’t really a bad sort of dog at heart, only he had been treated cruelly all his life, kicked and beaten and half-starved. dogs, you know, are very much like you two-legged folks. be gentle and kind to us and we will be gentle and kind, too. treat us crossly and we may grow to be cross and snappy like you. you are the ones we serve, and so it is not strange that we should learn our manners from you. poor jim—for that was the bulldog’s name—had had only blows and ugly words ever since he was a puppy and he didn’t know what it was to be well-fed and petted and looked after. he had heard of dogs who had nice homes and kind masters and he pretended to make fun of them and called them “pets,” but i knew very well that he envied them all the time.
i asked him what his master would do with me and why he had taken me from my home, and he said that i would be taken to the city and sold. “you’re not the first dog who has been here,” he said. “every month or so he brings one home with him. i’ve met a lot of them in my time.”
“but he has no right to do that,” i said. “if i did a thing like that william would say i was stealing.”
“of course,” said jim. “he’s a thief. he makes his living by it. he will get twenty or thirty dollars for you, perhaps. he would have sold me long ago if i had been worth selling. besides, he needs me here to keep people away.”
“did—did he steal you, too?” i asked him.
“i don’t know. i suppose so. i’ve been here ever since i can remember. probably he stole me when i was a very little puppy. sometimes i’ve thought i’d run away, but i never have. i’m afraid to. i’m such an ugly looking dog that no one would want me, i guess. so i just stay here and take what comes. i wouldn’t mind what he did if he would only give me a kind word once in a while.”
just then there was a noise outside and jim sprang up with a growl and went to the door.
“some one coming along the lane in a carriage,” he said. “i must be off.”
he went out and in a moment i heard him begin to bark loudly. then his master spoke to him and he was still and i heard another voice that i knew.
“hello,” said william. “seen a stray dachshund around here?”
“what might that be?” asked the man.
“a black dog with tan markings; long body and short legs,” answered william.
“no, i ain’t seen any dog except this one here. want to buy him?”
what william said to that i don’t know, because i began to bark as loudly as i could. but as soon as i barked jim barked too and barked a lot louder than i could, and i suppose william couldn’t hear me at all. at any rate, when i stopped a moment to listen all i could hear was the sound of the buggy rattling off down the road. i felt very sorry for myself then and i laid down in a corner of the box and whined and whimpered as though my heart was broken. after a while jim came back.
i think he pitied me a little. “i’m sorry i had to do it,” he said. “if i hadn’t he’d have beaten me, you know.”
“you could have run away for awhile,” i whimpered.
“i’ve tried that. it doesn’t do. he doesn’t forget. when i come back i get the beating just the same. cheer up, fritz. maybe you’ll have luck and find a nicer home than the one you had.”
“it couldn’t be nicer,” i said, “and even if it was i wouldn’t like it. i want to go home!”
“where is this home of yours?” he asked.
so i told him, and told him all about william and the master and the mistress and the baby and my parents and freya and everything. it made me cry some more, but i liked to talk about the folks i had lost and jim listened very politely and seemed interested.
“that must be fine,” he sighed. “you say they fed you twice a day, regular?”
“yes.”
“think of that!” he said. “you aren’t making it up, are you?”
“of course not!”
“i didn’t know,” he said. “i’ve heard of such things, but i never really believed them. say, if i could help you get away i would, honest, fritz! but it’s no use. there isn’t anything i can do.”
we talked over two or three plans, but there didn’t seem to be any way out of it. when it was getting dark again the man came in and[161] took me out of the box and led me into the house. as soon as he let go of the string i made for the door, but he caught me and cuffed me and closed the door tightly. then he took a box and put me into it and nailed a lid down on top of me. there were some little holes bored in the sides of the box which barely let in enough air for me to breathe. pretty soon he took the box under his arm and set out with it. as we went out of the yard jim called “good-bye, fritz! good luck!” but i was too unhappy to reply.
