"Drowned."
"Merciful sakes! How did it happen?"
"Got hurt, couldn't be cured, so I drowned him, and"—
"What!" shrieked Aunt Liddy, upsetting her footstool with a horrified start.
"Only a dog, ma'am. I couldn't carry him, wouldn't leave him to suffer; so put him out of pain and came on alone."
The tramp had ceased eating, and sat with his head on his hand in a despondent attitude, that told his story better than words. His voice was gruffer than ever as he spoke of his dog; but the last word was husky, and he put his hand on Bran's head with a touch that won the good creature's heart entirely, and made him lick the downcast face, with a little whine of sympathy and satisfaction.
Letty's eyes were full, and Aunt Liddy took snuff and settled her footstool, feeling that something must be done for one who showed signs of being worth the saving.
"Poor creter! And you was fond of him?" she said in a motherly tone; for the man of five or six and twenty was but a boy to her.
"I'd have been a brute if I wasn't fond of him, for he stuck to me when all the other fellows cut me, and tried to drag himself along with a broken leg, rather than leave me. Talk about friends! Give me a dumb animal if you want one worth having."
A bitter tone was in the man's voice and a wrathful spark kindled in his eyes, as if wrong as well as want had made him what he was.