At last Bob managed to drive all the boys back out of harm's way, only to see one of the cowboys rush for the dog with a cry that tore at Bob's heartstrings.
"It's Tige! Oh, Tige!—poor old Tige! Let me go! I've got to save my dog!"
Bob had grabbed the little fellow and held him tight. "Too late, old scout," he said, with tears in his own eyes as he saw the dog kicking his last. "Tige's done for, I'm afraid. Keep back, there—that wire will get you too!" For the boys were crowding nearer again.
"Who has a telephone at home?" asked Bob.
"We have," said one of the larger boys.
"Then run home quick, call up the Electric Light Company, and have them send their repair crew. Tell them a live wire has killed Tige and may kill the boys if they don't hurry. Tell 'em it's at the corner of Broad Street and Center Avenue. Run!"
While he waited for the repair wagon, Bob managed to get the boys lined up in all directions, where they could mount guard over the danger zone. Then he stood guard with the rest, and they succeeded in keeping all teams and passers-by from running into danger till the repair men came.
It seemed a long while before the clatter of hoofs and the rumble of heavy wheels told him the rescue party was coming at last. He jumped with surprise when the repair wagon dashed around the corner and pulled up beside the curb, for there beside the driver sat Sure Pop, the Safety Scout! Puzzled by Bob's long stay and hearing the gong as the wagon hurried up, he had decided to come along.
Ten minutes later the live wire was back in place, the repair crew had clattered off again, and a little band of mourning Indians and cowboys had carried poor Tige's body over to his master's back yard, where they buried him after a solemn funeral service. Only a dog—but the tears they dropped on his little grave were very real and sincere, for he had been a jolly playmate and a loyal friend.
Bob was very sober as he walked home with Sure Pop. "Wish I could have saved Tige, somehow!"