To us children he was a marvel of wickedness. There were those
who told how he had stood in the storm one night and dared the
Almighty to send the lightning upon him.
The dog Fred had grown so old and infirm that one day they sent
for Abe to come and put an end to his misery. Every man on the
farm loved the old dog and not one of them would raise a hand to
kill him. Hope and I heard what Abe was coming to do, and when
the men had gone to the fields, that summer morning, we lifted
Fred into the little wagon in which he had once drawn me and
starting back of the barn stole away with him through the deep
grass of the meadow until we came out upon the highroad far
below. We had planned to take him to school and make him a nest
in the woodshed where he could share our luncheon and be out of
the way of peril. After a good deal of difficulty and heavy pulling
we got to the road at last. The old dog, now blind and helpless, sat
contentedly in the wagon while its wheels creaked and groaned
beneath him. We had gone but a short way in the road when we
heard the red bridge roar under rushing wheels and the familiar
yell of Abe.
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