After I had run a long way, I saw the wagon ahead of me and so I hurried on until I was close to them. I went on for some time without any one seeing me, but at last my mistress turned her head and saw me trotting along through the dust. She looked surprised and shook her head at me, but did not tell the others. By and by the horse stopped at a house and I was so tired I ran up to the wheel and cried to be taken in. Then the little boy cried out, “Why, here is Dick, how did he get here?” and his papa said, “Dick, you rascal, what did you follow us for?” I hung my head for I thought I might get a whipping for coming without permission, but the gentleman only laughed and taking me up, put me in under the seat. Wasn’t I glad to lie down and rest! When the baby began to creep she and I used to have great fun on the floor. I would stand still and let her catch me and then jump away and back at her, and she would laugh and crow with delight. The little boy was in school part of the day, but we always had a good run after he came home. My mistress used to say to me, “Dick, it is half past three and time for brother to come from school,” and then I would run down to the gate and watch for him, and when I saw him coming we would run to meet each other, and such a hugging as I would get! But for that great dog I would have had a happy life on the farm, but Brian used to bat me around so roughly that I was afraid to go near him, and at last, one day, he struck me with his paw and rolled me over. He then stepped on me, and I was hurt so badly that I could not get up. My mistress ran out and picked me up in her arms and scolded Brian until he hung his head and tried to lick her hand. Then she said, “Well, I suppose you didn’t intend to hurt Dick, and, after all, you are only a dog, and people do more thoughtless things than this.” I stayed in the house nearly all the time until my sides were well, and every day Brian came to the door to ask how I felt and to tell me how sorry he was for having hurt me. He was an affectionate dog, but very thoughtless, and I often heard our mistress say that he was very different from the majority of St. Bernard dogs, for they were generally very intelligent and trustworthy. Perhaps Brian had not been well treated during his puppyhood, for that is the time to form a dog’s character. By talking to us when we are little we soon learn to understand what is required of us, and, then if people are kind, we always will try to do as they wish. My mistress used to say that the worst thing a person could do was to abuse a dog or a horse, for both were too good friends to be ill-treated. There were four horses on the farm, a black mare named Dot, a black horse, Billy, a large bay, Milo, and a young chestnut horse called Archie.