Sometimes we would play going through the woods, where the Indians were likely to waylay us. Then Milo was our pathfinder. With his nice sense of smell he must find out where the cunning redskins were lying in wait. There was no end to the uses to which we put the dear little dog in our plays. Never did he snarl, or lose his temper. He saw that we loved him; and he repaid our love by taking all the pains he could to please us. But a dark time came for Milo and for us. A fright about mad dogs broke out in our town. A bad fellow said he had seen another dog, who was known to be mad, bite Milo. This was untrue; for Milo was at home at the time. But all our prayers were of no use. We must bring Milo to the town-hall to have him shot. How we children wept and took on! Poor Milo, our dear little playmate! Must we lose him forever? We could not bear the thought. The little dog himself saw that something was the matter, and whined at seeing us all so sad. All at once up started our eldest brother, Robert, and declared it should not be. He would rescue the little dog. [Illustration] He did so without letting any one know of his plan. He took Milo, at night, in the cars, to the nearest great city. Here one of our cousins lived. Placing Milo in his charge, Robert came back; and when the town-officer came after the little dog, to kill him, he was told that Milo had stepped out, and, if the town-folks wanted him, they must find him. In a few months, the outcry about mad dogs was hushed; and then we had Milo home again. What rejoicing there was! And how glad was Milo himself to get back, and greet all his little friends with barks and leaps! FROM THE GERMAN. [Illustration] THE THREE CALVES. My little friend Max was on a farm, a whole week last May, and he likes to talk of the good time he had there. He says there were no less than three calves in the great field; and he used to watch them and feed them two or three times a day. They grew to be so tame that they would let him come up and pat them on the back, and feel of their budding horns. He gave them each a name. One he called Daisy; one, Pink; and one, Rose. He said if he had been with them three weeks, he should have taught them to know their names. He hopes to see them again next May; but I think they will be good sized cows by that time, for they grow very fast. A. B. C. [Illustration] "WHY?" "You must not go in there!" said an old dog to a young pup who stood on the white steps of a large house. "You must stay out now." "Why?" asked the young pup. For it was a trick (and a bad trick) of his to say, "Why?" when he was told to do, or not to do, a thing. "Why?" said the old dog: "I cannot say why. Old as I am, I do not know why. But I do know, that, if you go in when it is a wet day like this, the maid will drive you out."