But what was the heart-rending cry which sounded in his ears as the train rolled by? What had happened? Roger Madison, strong man though he was, felt almost faint at the thought. Had the dog saved his master’s life only to lose his own? It could not be.
But it was so. Sirius had not stirred from Peter’s side until he saw him in a place of security; what happened afterwards no one ever knew. Probably in his ecstasy at the boy’s safety he had forgotten his own danger and jumped back upon the track; but whatever the cause, the train passed over him. He lost his life in saving the beloved master who had once rescued him from a cruel death. And who, whether dog or man, can ask for a more glorious end than this?
In the meantime Miss Madison, surmising that something serious was the matter, had left the canoe drawn up upon the bank, and had herself climbed up to the top. She reached it soon after the train had passed and found her brother bending over the still form of the boy, who lay by the side of the railroad.
“Who do you suppose it is, Margaret?” said he. “We had better take him to the Starrs’. It is the nearest house.”
“It may be Peter Starr, Roger!” exclaimed Miss Madison. “I shouldn’t wonder at all if it were, and he looks something like them, as well as I can see in this light. He has a dog, you know.”
“He has one no longer, then,” said Roger, briefly. “The dog is dead.”
“Roger, how terrible! What will the poor boy say? But I had better run before and prepare them. Roger, are you sure the boy is alive?”
But even as she spoke, the lad stirred slightly and opened his eyes.
“Sirius,” he murmured faintly; “come here, sir!” Then he lost consciousness again.
“It is Peter Starr,” said Margaret. “The dog’s name was Sirius. Follow slowly, Roger. You must give me time to prepare them.”