In the night he kept coming to my bunk and sticking his nose up to me. He’d always been taken care of before this and I suppose he couldn’t understand why I didn’t help him when he felt so awful. It was terrible to have a dumb animal depend upon you like that—and you not knowing anything to do to help him. The medicine was getting the poison out of him, but it had weakened him so that he was nothing but bones already. I was patting his head that afternoon and I just couldn’t keep from crying when I realized that he would probably die. I was crying and sniffling like a little kid when Ben came in and saw me there acting like that. He didn’t feel very well himself, but of course he wouldn’t cry about anything. But I couldn’t stop, and everything he said made me cry harder and harder, because I kept recalling things Esky had done in his short life and everything like that just made me think my heart would break open any minute. Ben said, “Aw, hell, Leony, don’t do that!” He put his arm around my shoulder and patted my back roughly, trying to make me feel better, and when I kept on crying, he said, “If I didn’t know what a good pup he is, I’d swear you was a woman by the way ya act.... Come on, now, Leony.... Cut it out!” I finally regained control of myself but I must have looked pretty miserable, for Ben suddenly got up and went out without saying anything. I thought he had gone because he couldn’t stand any more of my foolish crying. But that was not the whole reason. He came back about an hour later and said he’d been to see the veterinary again. “An’ I told him what was in that meat an’ he gave me this stuff.” He lifted Esky’s head and almost emptied the bottle down his throat. “How’d you know what was in that meat?” I asked him, suddenly realizing that he must be keeping something back. “Oh—I found out,” he evaded. “How?” “Well—I went down to The Red Dog and wrapped my fist around the old man’s neck an’ wouldn’t let go until he confessed.” “Oh, God, Ben—you didn’t!” I exclaimed, thinking at once of the possible trouble that might come, if Pierre got mad. “Yes, I did,” he insisted. “And I gave him a punch in the jaw for good measure, the dirty b——!” Well, Esky was still alive, but he hadn’t showed any signs of improvement.... I was just sick all over.... Probably Esky would die and Pierre would be mad and tell on us, and everything would be ruined.... And poor Ben couldn’t understand why I was sorry he punched Pierre’s head. —5— At last the vet said Esky was going to pull through, with any luck at all, and Ben and the General, and even Chilblaines, were all happy as kids. So was I. But I stopped at Lisa’s in the evening and Pierre lit into me for all his troubles. He had a black eye and he was mad through at all of us.... Lisa said she wished we hadn’t told him the truth yet, and I suppose it would have been better if we had stayed away from the place altogether.