Adventure stories; Puget Sound Region (Wash.) -- Juvenile fiction; Ranch life -- Juvenile fiction; Young men -- Juvenile fiction
They called him endearing names, which, so far as they could see, had
not the least effect, but neither of them felt equal to entering the
kitchen until Miss Oliver walked in by another door. Then the dog let
her take the hat, wagging his tail with satisfaction.
"He's a good deal more intelligent than you seem to think," she said.
"Give him your hat, Harry, and then go out and wait for a few minutes
before you come back for it."
Harry did so, and the dog made no trouble when he picked up the hat, but
he would not let Frank go near it in the meanwhile. After that they
tried two or three more experiments of the same kind, though Frank took
no part in them, which was a thing he regretted when he went for a swim
an evening or two later.
On this occasion the tide was almost full, the water in the cove was
pleasantly warm and bright sunlight streamed down upon it, showing the
white shingle a fathom beneath the surface. Now and then Frank went down
toward it, for he had learned to swim under water and look about him
while he did so, but by and by he headed for the entrance to the cove
with the overhand side stroke which Harry had taught him. Swinging his
left arm forward over his head, his face dipped under and then rose in
the midst of a ripple as his hollowed palm swept backward under his
crooked elbow to his thigh, while his legs swung across each other like
a pair of scissors. The brine gleamed and sparkled as it slipped past
him, and when he reached the entrance to the cove he slid up and down
the smooth, green undulations with a pleasant lift and fall. It was so
exhilarating that he went farther than he had intended, and he was
feeling a little breathless when at last he turned back, but when he
reached the spot where he had undressed trouble awaited him.
The dog was seated upon his clothing, watching him with suspicious eyes,
and it growled when he stood up knee-deep. Frank hesitated. The dog did
not look amiable, but he was beginning to feel cold, and he walked
slowly forward a pace or two. Then the creature raised itself on its
forepaws, with white fangs bare, and once more broke into a deep,
ominous growl. There was no doubt that it intended to guard his clothes.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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