The Iron Dog. 169

But the Dog’s iron joints were already stiffen-
ing, and creaked as he ran. He began to grow
cold, too, poor fellow, and his eyes, losing their
bright alert look, grew hard and dead.

« Eleven!” and the pedestal was reached.

“Here we are,’ and Arnold jumping down,
pushed the Dog toward it! One bound now, and
he was on!!

“ Twelve !”’ said the clock.

“Dear, dear Doggie, I am so glad, so very,
very glad,” said Arnold, hugging him and dancing
about him in great delight.

But the poor creature could make no answer,
for he was again a stiff, cold, iron Dog. Arnold
tried, but in vain, to push back one poor leg
that had not quite had time to get on, but stuck
straight out behind. Then, tired out with exer-
tion and excitement, and with one arm about the
cold neck of his friend, the little boy fell fast
asleep. But I am glad to say that his nap lasted
only for a moment, for fortunately his father and
mother were just coming home as the clock struck
twelve, and looking across the lawn recognized,