Bruno

by Byrd Spilman Dewey

I lay listening to the breakers booming on the outer bar, wondering how far on his journey Julius could be.

Dawn looked in at me before I fell asleep; then I knew nothing until aroused by Bruno's barks, to find that some one was rapping on the front door.

After hastily putting on a dressing-gown, I investigated through a crack made by holding the door slightly ajar, and found that the same kind friends had sent to see how I had spent the night. I gave a glowing account of our comfort and security, for my morning nap had thoroughly rested and refreshed me; then I hastened to prepare some breakfast for Bruno, meanwhile letting him out for a run in the lot.

After the small household duties were attended to, I had sat down to finish some souvenirs I was painting for one of the shops, when I heard a great din and clatter outside. Bruno, who was sitting beside me, gravely watching my work, while now and then he gave a disgusted snort as he got a good whiff of the turpentine I was using to thin my paints, started up, barking and bounding towards the closed door. I sprang to open it, and was met on the very threshold by a trembling, half-grown deer. The gate was open, showing how it had entered, and there, hesitating at the sight of Bruno and me, was a motley crowd of boys and dogs. I at once grasped the situation. Many people in St. Augustine had such pets, and I was sure this one must have escaped from the grounds of its owner, to fall into the hands of the rabble.

I hurried out to shut the gate. Most boys are more or less cruel; but Spanish boys are intensely so. When I returned to the porch, Bruno and the deer were regarding each other with mutual doubts. I settled Bruno's at once by laying my hand on his head while I stroked our gentle visitor, saying,—

"Pretty deer, Boonie mustn't hurt it!"

The deer seemed satisfied too, and to feel that danger was past. I brought water, and everything I could think of to offer it to eat. It was too warm with running to want food, though, and only took a few swallows of water. Its lovely, deep eyes suggested all sorts of romantic thoughts. Of course I quoted, "Come rest in this bosom," and "I never nursed a dear gazelle." I was sure its name should be Juanita, after the girl in the sweet Spanish song.

All day the pretty creature roamed about our little enclosure, Bruno and I attending to its wants as best we could, having had no experience in catering for such guests.

It turned quite chilly towards evening. When I had shut all the doors and built up the fire, I heard a clatter of small hoofs on the porch-floor, and there stood Juanita, looking wistfully in through the window. Bruno and I looked at each other, thoroughly perplexed. We were not prepared for such a hint. I thought afterwards it must have been taken as a baby-deer, and raised in-doors "by hand."

We went out and prepared a warm bed for it in the wood-shed back of the house. It seemed quite satisfied with this arrangement, and settled down cosily as we left it and returned to our fireside. We spent this evening and night as we had the previous one, and were aroused very early in the morning by the sound of Juanita's impatient little hoofs on the porch floor. I had just finished feeding her and Bruno, when I heard the gate-latch click. I looked out. A colored girl was coming up the walk.