Jack, the Fire Dog

“No,” said Billy, gently, “but you can tell me all about it, and we can play with it all the same.”

A great change came over Sam. The bright color left his cheeks, and his lips began to quiver. Kindly Mrs. Hanlon knew what was going on in the little boy’s mind, and she tried to take him in her motherly arms to comfort him; but he broke away from her and ran downstairs and out of the door. Mary followed him, but she found it hard to keep pace with him as he rushed at full speed along the streets. He paid no heed to her entreaties to stop, and arrived breathless at his grandpapa’s house.

Mrs. Ledwell, who was about to go down to breakfast, was startled to see her little grandson appear in such a breathless and excited state.

“Grandmamma,” he exclaimed, “I am never going to pray to God again as long as I live!”

“Why, Sam!” exclaimed his astonished grandmother, “what do you mean?”

“Billy can’t see,” he answered, “and here I have been praying and praying for all this time; and Mary says there is a pony dog-cart for me in the stable, and I didn’t want it! I just wanted to have Billy see!” and Sam threw himself upon the lounge and burst into a violent fit of sobbing.

Mrs. Ledwell hardly knew what to do, but she did the best thing she could possibly have done. She let the little boy expend the violence of his grief, and then she seated herself by him and gently stroked the hair back from his hot forehead. When the weeping grew less violent and she knew the little boy could listen, she said,—

“You must remember, Sam, that there are a great many little boys and girls all over the world asking God for different things, and he can’t answer all at once. It takes a long time, you know, so you must be patient and wait a little longer.”

“But I didn’t ask for anything else,” sobbed Sam, “and he has gone and sent me the dog-cart, after all; and I was very particular to say that I didn’t want it.”

“By next summer, Sam, I am quite sure that Billy can see, and think what fine drives you and he can have together!”

“Summer is a long way off,” replied Sam, “and I did so want Billy to see now!”

“We can’t have things come about just as we want them, my dear little boy,” said Grandmamma.

“I sha’n’t pray any more, just the same,” said Sam, decidedly.

“Billy is in a comfortable home and has found kind friends, and Grandpapa will soon find out where his mother is; and then by and by Billy will see, and then how happy he will be! There are a great many little boys worse off than Billy is, so if I were you I would try to be patient.”

Sam was silent for a while, and his grandmother knew that he was thinking the matter over in his sensible mind.

“I suppose there must be an awful lot of boys and girls asking God for all sorts of things,” he said.

“Indeed, there are,” said Grandmamma, “and just think how much happier Billy is than he was when you first saw him!”

“Well,” said Sam in his old decided manner, “I guess I had better keep on praying a little while longer.”

“I think so, too, dear,” replied Grandmamma; “and now we’ll go down to breakfast and be as cheerful as we can, because if we look unhappy we shall make everybody about us so, and we want all to have a very pleasant Christmas.”

So Sam, like the sensible, conscientious little fellow he was, wiped his eyes very carefully with his pocket-handkerchief and assumed a cheerful smile,—very much the kind of expression, his grandmother thought, that people have when they are sitting for a photograph and the artist tells them to “look pleasant.” It was rather a forced smile, to be sure, but before breakfast was half over, Grandpapa, under whose genial influence nobody could be long unhappy, had brought real smiles back to the little boy’s face, and they were laughing and joking together as if there were no such things as unhappiness and suffering in all the world.

“Now I will tell you my plan,” said Grandmamma, “and you can see how you like it. I shall be busy this morning, for I must call on my old ladies at the Home and see if they are having a happy Christmas, but I propose that you two take a nice sleigh-ride and invite Billy to go with you. Then you can bring him home for lunch, and in the afternoon a few boys and girls are coming, and you can play games together. How does my plan strike you?”

“It strikes me very pleasantly,” replied Grandpapa, “and will suit me exactly, for I have to see a man who lives out of town and shall be glad of the company of the youngsters. What do you say, Sam?”

“I think it will be very nice,” replied Sam, “and I guess Billy will think so too.”

“Suppose we stop at the ‘Animal Rescue League’ and see how our little dog is getting on,” said Grandpapa.

“Can’t we take some cakes to him?” asked Sam. “I don’t believe he knows it is Christmas.”

“Yes, we will take cakes enough to go all around,” said Grandpapa.

A little later, Sam and his grandpapa, with a box full of cookies and sweet biscuits, called for Billy. The little blind boy was delighted at the prospect of such a happy day, and he beamed with smiles as his faithful friend Sam led him carefully down the steps to the sleigh, while Mrs. Hanlon, looking just as happy, watched them from the door.

“What have you in that package that you take such care of?” asked Mr. Ledwell, who observed that the little boy carried a package in one hand.

“It is a Christmas present for Jack,” replied Billy.

“Why, Grandpapa, we forgot all about him!” exclaimed Sam. “Isn’t it too bad?”

“We have cakes enough to spare him a few,” replied Grandpapa.

“Of course, I couldn’t forget about Jack,” said Billy, “because he saved my life, you know.”

“The dear little soul has been worrying about what to give Jack for a Christmas present,” said Mrs. Hanlon. “He has saved up some of the money you gave him for presents, and I told him I thought Jack would appreciate some nice bones more than anything else. So what does he do but ask the butcher to sell him some of the very nicest bones he had, with plenty of meat on them.”

“And what do you think, Sam? When I told him they were for Jack, he wouldn’t take any money for them! He said he should like to give something towards a present for the Fire-Dog, because he is such a nice dog.”

“You see,” said Billy confidentially to Sam, as they drove to the engine-house, “I can make a present to Mrs. Hanlon now, because the butcher wouldn’t let me pay for Jack’s present. Do you suppose she would mind if it doesn’t come just exactly at Christmas?”

“I don’t believe she would mind very much,” replied Sam, who remembered that the Christmas present he so much wanted did not come on time.

“Will you go with me some day and buy something for her, Sam?”

“Yes,” replied Sam, “and we will pick out something real nice!”

The Fire-Dog was at home and rejoiced to see them, especially the little blind boy whose life he had saved. He was much gratified too, at the present Billy brought him. One large bone was given him, which he at once took in his mouth and walked off with to eat by himself, a proud and happy dog. The rest of the package was left in Reordan’s charge to be given according to his judgment, and a dessert from Sam’s box of cakes was added.

There was not time to stop and watch Jack enjoy his repast, as the boys would have liked to do, so they had to leave before he was half through. Jack was very hungry, but he was such a polite dog that he never forgot his good manners, and whenever the boys spoke to him, wagged his tail and smiled, to let them know how much he appreciated the attention.

“You ought to see how he enjoys that bone, Billy,” said Sam, as they drove off; and Billy looked just as happy as if he had seen it.

Such a barking as greeted them when they entered the building of the Animal Rescue League! All the dogs who were around came running to see who it was and to find out if another stray dog had been brought in; and among them, barking his loudest, was little Toby, as happy and as much at home as any of them. He recognized his old friends at once, and tried by every means a dog knows, to express his gratitude.

“They act as if they know it is Christmas,” said Sam.

“So they do,” said the man who had charge of them, “and they are going to have a Christmas-tree just like folks. They do seem to know something is up, they and the cats too. The cats are going around with their tails straight up in the air, and they play with one another just as if they had lost their senses.”

“This little boy has brought some cakes for the dogs,” said Mr. Ledwell; and Sam presented his box.

“They will come in very handy when they have the tree,” replied the man.

Then the visitors were taken over the building and shown all the inmates, even to some big dogs out in the yard. All looked happy and contented, and showed the best of care. Some kittens especially took the children’s fancy, and Sam explained to Billy how they looked when they were playing. One was lying on his back, kicking, clawing and biting a worsted ball he had to play with, and another was running sideways with his back arched and his tail fluffed out, as if he were dreadfully frightened at something; while another had pounced upon one of them and made believe he was going to eat him up. The mother of this lively family was pretending to take a nap, but her half-opened eyes and fond and happy purring showed that she was enjoying the romps of her darlings as much as they did themselves.

It was hard for the children to leave this entertaining place, and especially hard to resist the affectionate entreaties of the dogs, who were delighted to see visitors. They had to go, however, for a long drive out of town was before them, and they departed after a while, all the dogs who could reach the windows barking a joyous farewell as they drove off.

CHAPTER THIRTEENTH

SOMEHOW or other on Christmas morning everything takes on a festive, joyous tone. The very sleigh-bells seem to ring out more merrily than usual, and the children’s voices in their play seem more joyous than on other days. Even the shy sparrows seem to grow bolder, and twitter more loudly than usual. The dogs, too, seem possessed of unusually gay spirits, and bound through the streets as if they were thinking of the good Christmas dinner that awaits them.