Ned was obliged to find the neighbor another roast.
Bob was a dog not easily convinced. This is a polite way of putting it, for the trait was neither more nor less than downright stubbornness. When he would not do a thing, he wouldn’t, until at last persuaded by kind words, or hope of reward, or fear of punishment.
Ned found that patience and gentle argument were better than blows, to make Bob yield, so threshings were dropped from the list of “persuaders.” Bob had a keen sense of shame, and the tone of the voice could make him feel worse than the hardest licking.
His stubbornness was twice very nearly his death. The first time, he was simply bound not to budge one inch from the way of a heavy farm wagon. He lay flat in the road, and waited for the wagon to turn out for him. But the wagon kept upon its route, and Bob, still sticking to his position, did nothing but howl his protests as the wheels passed over his back.
His bones being soft, he arose unhurt, and stalked off in the sulks.
The second time had as a scene the approach to the high trestle bridging a slough just beyond the farther end of the river bridge. Ned and Bob had been for a walk, and upon the return Bob had refused to walk the trestle. According to his custom he flopped down, like a spoiled child, on the spot.
Ned went ahead, hoping that at last Bob would arise and follow. He had gone a short distance, leaving Bob sprawled on the gravel in the middle of the railroad track, when suddenly he heard the rumble of a train, nearing from behind.
“Bob! Here, Bob! Here, Bob!” he called, running back.
But Bob dumbly declined.
“Get up! Bob! Get up!” cried Ned.