“Poor little Pet! How often you have played with me!” the trapper said, in the interval of his sobs. “Oh, what shall I do, and what will Mr. Murdock say to me!”
Just as the boy spoke, the Senator was approaching in his search of the dog.
“Ah, my little man,” he said, as he drew near the sorrowing trapper, “can you tell me where to look for Pet? I’ve lost him this morning, and I thought you could help me to find him, if any one could. We live so near that you and Pet are always together. Why, what is the matter?” he asked, seeing that the boy was crying bitterly.
“Oh, sir!” was all Will could say.
But the Senator was now beside him, and, taking in the matter at a glance, he exclaimed angrily, “What is this I see? Have you, whom I always considered a moral little boy, have you entrapped my dog! I am amazed! Poor Pet! Poor little dog!”
“I didn’t mean to catch him,” Will pleaded, “and I am very sorry.”
“Well, I shall not blame you,” the Senator said slowly. “Your father ought not to let you set traps so recklessly, and I lay the blame upon him.”
“Don’t blame my father, for it is my own fault,” Will replied, ready, at all times, to defend his father. “I will never do it again, Mr. Murdock; indeed I won’t.”
“Hardly, seeing that the poor beast is dead. But help me to get it out of trap, and I shall take it home and bury it.”