“Not as should be. Who ever saw a dog come out of the water and not shake himself? Carlo, hie, Carlo!” and George threw a stone along the ground, after which Carlo trotted; but his limbs seemed to work stiffly; the stone spun round a sharp corner in the road, the dog followed it.
“He will do now,” said Robinson.
They walked briskly on. On turning the corner they found Carlo sitting up and shivering, with the stone between his paws.
“We must not let him sit,” said Tom; “keep his blood warm. I don't think we ought to have sent him into the water.”
“I don't know,” muttered George, gloomily. “Carlo,” cried he, cheerfully, “don't you be down-hearted; there is nothing so bad as faint-heartedness for man or beast. Come, up and away ye go, and shake it off like a man.”
Carlo got up and wagged his tail in answer, but he evidently was in no mood for running; he followed languidly behind.
“Let us get home,” said Robinson; “there is an old pal of mine that is clever about dogs, he will cut the shot out if there is one in him, and give him some physic.”
The men strode on, and each, to hide his own uneasiness, chatted about other matters; but all of a sudden Robinson cried out, “Why, where is the dog?” They looked back, and there was Carlo some sixty yards in the rear, but he was not sitting this time, he was lying on his belly.
“Oh! this is a bad job,” cried George. The men ran up in real alarm; Carlo wagged his tail as soon as they came near him, but he did not get up.
“Carlo,” cried George, despairingly, “you wouldn't do it, you couldn't think to do it. Oh, my dear Carlo, it is only making up your mind to live; keep up your heart, old fellow; don't go to leave us alone among these villains. My poor, dear, darling dog! Oh, no! he won't live, he can't live; see how dull his poor, dear eye is getting. Oh, Carlo! Carlo!”