WELL, what are you doing here?” said Billy.
“That is the question I was about to ask you,” replied the dog.
“I came in to get out of the rain because all the other places were shut,” said Billy Jr.
“And I came here because I live here. This is the only home I know,” answered the dog.
“Oh, if that is the case I will be going, as I do not wish to intrude.”
“You are perfectly welcome to stay and share the shelter of my home, poor as it is,” said the dog, whose name was Stubby.
“You are exceedingly kind,” replied Billy. “I will gladly stay if only for your company. I hate being out alone in a thunder storm.”
After this they became very well acquainted and prolonged their talk far into the night, exchanging confidences and experiences.
As you all know Billy’s history, I will not repeat what he told the dog, but will confine myself to the sad story of Stubby’s life.
Stubby was undoubtedly of common parentage with not a drop of blue blood in his veins, but he had plenty of good red blood, so he did not care, only he often thought it would be very nice to be petted and fed as thoroughbreds were. This wish, however, only came on days when he had nothing to eat but a piece of mouldy bread from the garbage box and nothing to drink but water out of a mud puddle. On other days he would not exchange his lot for that of a King Charles lying on a satin cushion on my lady’s lap, for what did the King Charles know of real life or freedom, shut up in my lady’s boudoir, or taken for a walk at the end of a silver chain?
No, he would not change his free, roving life and home in a packing box for all the satin cushions in the world. He felt that he should sicken and die shut up in a home, fed on bonbons, and only allowed to run to the length of a short chain. To be sure it must be nice to have for a mistress a pretty lady who would stroke you with her soft white hand, or a sweet little girl to romp and play with, but one could not have these joys without the evils of being shut up in an overheated house, and that he knew he could not stand.
He had been born under a barn standing in the suburbs of San Francisco. His father he had never seen and his mother was a small yellow dog like himself, only she had a tail that curled in a beautiful manner once and a half times round, of which she was very proud. His tail had curled in this same way until some bad boys caught him and cut it off.
“Oh, I tell you, Master Billy, you don’t know what it is to knock around the world and be only a poor little yellow cur that every one delights to kick and stone, although he has done nothing but mind his own business. You see, though you have traveled a great deal and seen more of the world than I have, still you have not bucked up against its cruel side as I have. One reason is because you are so big and so strong that people dare not hurt you, while as for me, I have been so small and so homely that any bad boy or man could be cruel to me and not be afraid of getting hurt for it.
“I had had my eyes open only for a few days when my mother told my brothers and sisters and me that if we wanted to get on in the world we must not look for justice, or bite when we were abused, and she said that we must endure all things, be patient and return good for evil. I remember this talk distinctly because it was the last we ever had with her, for the very next day a boy crawled under the barn and took all my brothers and sisters and myself in a basket and carried us to the river bank, where he tied a stone to each of our necks and then threw us into the water to drown. Somehow, he did not tie my string tight enough, and when he threw me into the river the weight of the stone untied the string and let me loose, so when I reached the bottom, instead of staying down like my brothers and sisters, I came to the surface and then swam ashore. I never knew I could swim until I found myself in the river, and then, instinctively, I struck out as if I had been swimming all my life, just as all animals do when thrown into the water for the first time.
“When I reached the shore the boy had gone, for when he saw us disappear under the water he thought we would never come up. I rested on the bank in the sun until I got dry, quietly crying for my kind little mother, for I knew I never could find my way back to her. I saw a house a short distance away with a barn and barnyard at the back, so I crept under the fence into the back yard and went to sleep beside a straw-stack. For supper I had only a little milk that I lapped up from the ground where the girl had spilled it when milking. Of course I got more dirt than milk, but I was afraid to go nearer to the house for fear of being abused.
“The next morning the hired girl came out to milk the cow and I made up my mind I would try to make friends with her, so I commenced by giving a little low bark to attract her attention as she sat milking. She turned around quickly and said, ‘My goodness, how you scared me! Where did you come from, you poor forlorn little thing?’
“Her voice reassured me, so I ran straight up to her and she patted me and said, ‘There, don’t look so frightened, no one is going to hurt you.’ When she went to the house she called to me to follow her, which I was very glad to do, and she gave me a saucer of nice, warm milk, which I was very much in need of, being both cold and hungry.
“Well, from that day until I was stolen by a tin peddler, I stayed there and was petted and fed as if I had been a dog with the bluest of blue blood in my veins. But what a life I had of it with that lying, cheating tinker, until he at last sold me for five dollars to a young lady who had taken a fancy to me, mostly from pity, I think. From this lady I learned many tricks and was dressed in a blue blanket and tied with blue ribbons, which I tried to lose off or else rolled in the mud with, every chance I got. Some boys stole me from her, finally, and they cut off my beautiful curly tail, the only thing about me that was beautiful, although the young lady used to say, ‘Stubby, you have the loveliest eyes I ever saw in a dog’s head. They certainly look as if you had a human soul, and you make me wonder what you are thinking about.’
“After the boys stole me, my luck went from bad to worse until I had to hide in the daytime and only look for food at night. I was stoned and kicked so that at last I gave up trying to find a good master or mistress and I hid in alleys, sometimes sleeping out in the rain and cold without any shelter but the sky or anything softer than a board to sleep on, so when this old packing box was thrown out into the alley I hailed it with delight and have lived in it ever since.
“You see my story is only a pitifully uninteresting tale beside your life history.”
“Forget the past,” said Billy Jr. “That is gone, and in the future we will live together and see what good we can get out of life. What do you say to leaving the city and going out into the country? It is much cleaner there, while there is less chance of being abused or of getting shut up where we won’t be free to come and go as we please.”
“Very well,” said Stubby, “I am longing to get into the country once again. What direction shall we take?”
“South,” replied Billy Jr. “Let us try to find our way to Old Mexico, where it is nice and warm the year round.”
“That is a splendid idea,” said Stubby. “I, too, am tired of the cold.”
“It is too bad that dogs can’t live on grass and the things that goats can, for then you would not have to go hungry so often. I believe I could live on old shoes and straw if I could find nothing else to eat, although I don’t say I should relish them much,” said Billy.
“Oh, I can live on very little, so don’t worry about me,” said Stubby.
At the first peep of dawn the two friends left the old packing box and started on their long journey to Old Mexico.
