A policeman fired his pistol, and the ball entered Douglas’s shoulder. Half dead with pain as well as fright, the dog rushed on and finally escaped. He lay in his hiding-place till midnight, and then when no human eye could see him he crept away from the city. If only Miss Benson could see him now, and dress his wounds, and say the petting words of old that he had so loved to hear! Towards morning, exhausted, he lay down by the fence in the front yard of a house in the outskirts of the city. The owner of the home was a lawyer, a kind-hearted man, in part because he had a noble mother and wife. “There’s a poor wounded dog on our lawn, Jeannette,” Mr. Goodman said to his wife. “Call him in at the back door, and we’ll see if we can’t help him.” Mrs. Goodman took a basin of warm water and castile soap and carefully washed the wound, the children standing about and anxiously watching the operation. “Nice dog,” said Teddy, a boy of five. “He no bite.” “No,” said his mother, as Douglas looked pitifully up into her face. “He is a kind dog, and must belong to a good home somewhere.” After she had finished washing the sore and tender place Douglas licked her hand in appreciation. “Have Dr. Thayer come in,”—he was the veterinary surgeon,—said Mrs. Goodman to her husband. “We might as well make the care of animals a part of our missionary work in the world. The doctor will find the ball, if it is still there, and save the dog, I hope.” “All right, wife,” said Mr. Goodman, as he started for the office. “I suppose you want some breakfast, doggie,” said Mrs. Goodman, and she placed before Douglas a dish of meat and of milk. Douglas was too tired and too full of pain to eat much, but he felt as though a new world had opened to him. After all, there were some good people in the land, and at last he had reached them. Dr. Thayer came, found the ball in the patient, abused animal, and the wounded shoulder soon began to heal. When night came Mrs. Goodman made Douglas a warm bed of blankets by the kitchen stove, for she knew that a cold kennel was not a suitable place for him. Later he was washed and dried, by rubbing with cloths, till his coat was silky and black. Teddy and the dog became inseparable companions. Wherever the child went Douglas was always close behind him, now licking his extended hand, now lying down for the child to clamber over him, or to lay his dark curls against the darker curls of the dog. They shared their food, and they frequently went to sleep together, if it could be called sleep on the part of the dog, whose eyes were usually open that his little charge might be guarded. Douglas never showed an inclination to bite unless some one touched the boy, and then he growled and looked concerned.