"Bessie! Bessie! my darling, speak to me!" cried the father.
Her eyes opened slowly; for an instant she did not know who held her.
"Bessie, child, it's father—speak to me!"
She looked at him an instant, then with a pitiful cry buried her face in his bosom.
Bouncer staggered forward, and now, by the light of the lanterns, they could see a broad gash upon his shoulder, and another upon his head. He looked up at Bessie with a mournful whine.
"Oh, Bouncer, dear Bouncer! can't you tell me where they are?" cried Bessie, turning suddenly, and gazing upon him with streaming eyes.
The brave fellow tried to wag his tail, but his strength was failing fast.
"He came to me only a little while ago," sobbed Bessie. "Oh! I was so thankful! but he came so slowly I knew he was hurt. I put out my hand and felt him all hot and wet—I can't remember anything since then. Oh! father, don't let poor Bouncer die—see! he is falling! Dear old Bouncer!" and she threw herself down beside him.
The poor fellow turned his head, and tried to lick her hand; then started up, growling with something like his old savageness, and fell over. They tried to lift him; they called his name. Even Bessie attempted to arouse him with a cheerful call. There was no movement;—Bouncer was dead!
It seemed hard to leave the body of the faithful creature lying exposed in the forest, but this was no time to bury him.