Ford Bonner may live to be a very old man—he is "going on" fifteen now—but it is likely that he will always recollect what occurred upon a certain dark evening in August two years ago. Ford's father and mother were travelling in Europe that summer; hence Ford, who was all the rest of the year a boarding-school-boy of the first water, spent his vacation at his Uncle Pepper's country place.
Ford's chief companion from day to day, as he scrambled among the rocky spurs, was Leo. Leo was a Scotch grayhound, Major Pepper's particular pet. Now one curious trait of his did equal honor to his head and heart. He had been bought at Black's Hollow, a village—if a store, which also was a Post-office, and six or seven dwellings, can be called a village—about two miles further up the road, among the mountains. Regularly once or twice a week would Leo slip innocently off in the morning for a whole day's visiting with any four-legged playmates whose society he had formerly relished at Black's Hollow. On such occasions Ford had to ramble on the heights alone.
Now Amzi Spinner, Major Pepper's hired man, had a brother who kept the Post-office and store at the Hollow. As soon as Amzi discovered Leo's trick of going so frequently thither of his own will, it seemed good to him to teach the dog to carry a letter there with safety and dispatch whenever told to do so. Amzi would tie his missives securely about the bright-eyed, lithe dog's neck, and say in his Yankee drawl:
"Naow, Leo, you jest make tracks for the village, double-quick. Do you understand? That letter'd ought to git to the store. Be off!"
Leo would leap away, barking joyfully, and in an hour return to seek Amzi in field or barn, collared with an answer from Lot Spinner. In this way the dog became, in a limited sense, the messenger and postman of the family when occasion prompted, and a very quick and faithful one.
It was the last Thursday in August when Major Pepper, finishing his second cup of coffee at breakfast, exclaimed to his wife, "There, Helen. I forgot to tell you last night that if you want to go down to the town in the phaeton with me to-day and give this afternoon to picking out those carpets, it'll suit me capitally."
Aunt Pepper laughed. "Why does a man always choose just the wrong day of all others?" she said, merrily. "Amzi and Mira" (Mira was Amzi's wife and Aunt Pepper's cook) "wanted to go to New York to-day to attend that wedding—her sister's, you recollect. They started early (at four o'clock) for the station, and I don't expect them back until long after we're in bed to-night. I can't leave the house and Ford to take care of themselves."
"Oh yes, you can," laughed Uncle Pepper. "Ford might go along if it wouldn't be a hot and stupid day in town for him—we shall be so busy. Leave him a good luncheon, and let him keep house by himself for once. Leo will help him. You wouldn't mind it, eh, Ford?"
Ford laughed too, and said that he rather guessed not.
"We'll not be later in getting back home than six o'clock, I suppose," said Aunt Pepper, reluctantly consenting.