“Is Dr. Cornby here?” asked Jim.
“Sure, come on in. Something wrong?”
Jim followed Arnold back to the office. “Your dog’s out here with his front legs broken,” he announced to the startled veterinarian.
“Good heavens!” said Cornby. “Where?”
Everyone followed Jim out to his horse where Horace was still lying in his poncho sling. He was lifted down tenderly and carried into Cornby’s office.
“Mary said he ran away sometime this afternoon,” said the doctor, as he examined the moaning dog. “But he’s done that so often I didn’t think anything about it. Where’d you find him, Jim?”
“I didn’t. Ticktock found him. I had gone to sleep and woke up when Ticktock stopped. I tried to get him to go on, but he wouldn’t so I flashed my light over to see what was bothering him. There was Horace in the ditch with his legs hurt. How is he?”
Cornby straightened up from his brief examination of the injured spaniel. “He doesn’t seem to have any internal injuries. Of course, two broken legs are enough, but they can be fixed.”
“I hope I didn’t hurt his legs when I eased him onto my poncho,” said Jim worriedly.
“Not a bit. You did a good job. I don’t know how to thank you for finding him. My kids would never recover if they lost Horace.”