Benny obeyed. The three children were as motionless as stone images, huddled¹ inside the freight car. Jess opened her mouth in order to breathe at all, her heart was thumping² so wildly. She watched like a cat through the open door, in the direction of the rustling³ noise. And in a moment the trembling bushes parted, and out crawled a dog. He was an Airedale and was pulling himself along on three legs, whimpering softly.

 

Jess drew a long breath of relief, and said to the children, "It's all right. Only a dog. But he seems to be hurt."

 

At the sound of her voice the dog lifted his eyes and wagged his tail feebly. He held up his front foot.

 

"Poor doggie," murmured Jess soothingly⁴, as she clambered out of the car. "Let Jess see your poor lame⁵ foot." She approached the dog carefully, for she remembered that her mother had always told her never to touch a strange dog unless he wagged his tail.

 

But this dog's tail was wagging, certainly, so Jess bent⁶ over without fear to look at the paw. An exclamation⁷ of pity escaped her when she saw it, for a stiff, sharp thorn had been driven completely through one of the cushions of the dog's foot, and around it the blood had dried.

 

"I guess I can fix that," said Jess briskly. "But taking the thorn out is going to hurt you, old fellow."

 

The dog looked up at her as she laid his paw down, and licked her hand.

 

"Come here, Violet and Benny," directed Jess.

 

She took the animal gently in her lap and turned him on his side. She patted his head and stroked his nose with one finger, and offered him the rest of her breadcrust, which she had put in her

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