He was a large, shaggy dog, of the Newfoundland breed, black as jet, with a white tip to his bushy tail, and three white feet.
Leo’s eyes were very bright, and his whole countenance remarkably intelligent. He was a most useful animal about the stable, always giving notice by a loud, fierce bark, when a stranger, and particularly an ill-dressed one, tried to enter. He was good-natured, too, and was never but once known to bite or seriously injure any person.
One day, the hostler, having gone into the city, left Leo in charge of the stable, as usual. About noon, a man entered and began to walk around.
After a few loud, prolonged barks, which brought no one to his aid, Leo concluded he must take care of the man himself. Every step that the stranger went he followed him, not molesting him in any way until the man took down a handsome fur robe from the shelf, and secreted it in the hay, near the window. He then proceeded to leave, when Leo caught him and held him fast.
Nearly an hour later, when the hostler returned, they were still in this position, the robber frightened almost out of his wits, and not daring to move lest the dog should kill him.
Being closely questioned by the hostler, he acknowledged his theft, and said that he had intended to come in the night and take away the robe, which he knew was valuable, by removing the window.
While he was talking, Leo watched him narrowly, and then followed him from the barn, growling continually.
Leo was very fond of his young mistress, whom in her babyhood, he had many times carried on his back around the gravelled walks near the house.
Minnie was fond of him too, and sometimes put her arms around his neck and kissed him.
When he saw her coming, he always ran to meet her, wagging his tail with pleasure.