Now as he barked joyfully and leaped and ran from one to another, Ben remarked, “Well, there’s no use talking, there’s something wrong with a man who doesn’t love a good dog!”
“Right you are!” said Tom, who, since Don had saved his life, had redoubled his affection for the dog. “They’re the finest animals in the world.”
“Yes,” said Jack, while Don squatted on his haunches and looked in his eyes adoringly, “they’re the most faithful and affectionate beasts on earth. They’ll never go back on you, no matter what happens. You’re just the same to them whether you have a dollar or a million; whether you’re a helpless outcast or the President of the United States. There aren’t many human friends that will stick by you everywhere in foul weather as well as fair weather, but a dog always will. He will trot along with you; he’ll fight for you; he’ll forgive all your impatience and ill-treatment, and he wouldn’t hesitate a moment to give up his life to save yours. They’re noble fellows, sure enough, aren’t they, old dog?” as he fondled the shaggy head caressingly.
“And they’re so intelligent,” said Pete. “They’ll follow a trail anywhere. You may try to cover up your tracks by all sorts of tricks, by walking backward in your footsteps, by running along fences or jumping from rock to rock, but although you may confuse them, they’ll stick to it until soon or late they pick up the trail again. The only way to fool them utterly is to take to the water and wade through it, but even then you have got to head for land sooner or later and the chances are they’ll get you. You know how hard it used to be in the old slave-holding days for a runaway to escape. I’ve heard that in some of the places of Europe—Belgium I think—trained dogs are a regular part of the police force and a most important part too, if you believe all that is told about them.”
“Well,” said Dick Crawford, who, after discharging some of the routine duties of the camp, had joined the group, “I know of a famous case that shows both those qualities of the dog, his affection and his intelligence. It all happened four hundred years ago and yet it is so interesting and remarkable that the story has lived all this time.”
The boys clamored to hear it and Dick went on:
“There was a young man in Paris, we’ll call him Aubrey for short, of good birth and breeding and moving in the gay world of fashion. He had a large circle of friends and owned a magnificent greyhound. It was a splendid brute, whom people turned about to watch as he followed his master through the streets.
“One day there was a great tournament in Paris, a very gay and splendid occasion, and his friends were surprised to see that Aubrey wasn’t there. They thought this was strange because he had counted very much on this coming event and had shown the greatest interest in it. Still they thought that something had detained him, but when on the second and third days he was also absent, they began to be worried about him.
“On the fourth morning a great friend of Aubrey, whom we’ll call De Narsac, heard a scratching at his door. He arose and found there his friend’s greyhound. The poor brute was wounded and had evidently been without food for days, so that his ribs almost showed through his flesh. De Narsac gave him food that he ate as famished. The appearance of the dog in such a condition deepened his suspicions that harm had come to his friend. The dog kept running about the apartment, whining and looking at him imploringly and plainly asking him to follow. Convinced now that something was wrong, he hastily dressed and followed him through the streets of Paris. The dog led him without a moment’s hesitation several miles out into the country through a forest that had a bad reputation as a resort for thieves and outlaws. Coming to some freshly disturbed earth under a great oak tree, he fell upon it and began scratching and whining pitifully. De Narsac and some friends he had brought with him began to dig and soon uncovered the murdered body of Aubrey.
“On their return to the city, they met a group of young men on one of the main streets. As soon as the dog caught sight of one of them he growled furiously, crouching and then leaped at the man’s throat. The courtier, whom we’ll call Macaire, beat off the dog with the help of his friends, but the greyhound made unavailing efforts to renew the attack.