, checked painfully whenever he stepped
on the trailing bridle.

An older and wiser dog than Guard, seeing the saddle and the trailing
bridle, would have known better than to attempt to practice his
"heeling" accomplishments on the animal that wore them. But Guard,
eager to air his lately-acquired knowledge, stopped for no such
considerations. Passing Mr. Horton, who was running after the horse,
like a flash, he made a bee-line for that gentleman's mount. Reaching
the animal, he crouched and bit one of his heels sharply. As the horse
bounded away, he followed, nipping the flying heels and yelping with
excitement. Mr. Horton toiled along in their rear and I ran after
him--not actuated by any strong desire to come to his assistance, but
in fear of what might happen should he succeed in laying hands on
Guard. The very set of his vanishing shoulders told me that he was
purple with rage and fatigue, and I had good cause to fear for the
safety of the dog, to whom I called and whistled, imploringly. After a
chase of about half a mile, Guard, making a wide detour around Mr.
Horton, came slinking back to me. He was evidently troubled with
misgivings as to the propriety of his conduct, and crouched in the
dust at my feet, looking up at me with beautiful beseeching eyes. "You
did very, very wrong!" I admonished him, earnestly. "You are
never--ne-ver--to heel a horse that has a saddle or bridle on. Do you
understand?"

Guard hung his head dejectedly, his bright eyes seeming to say that he
understood, and would profit by the lesson.

Returning to the house I went in again instead of mounting the waiting
horse and getting about my delayed errand.

"Did Mr. Horton catch his horse?" Jessie inquired.

"I don't know; I hope not, I'm sure. I think a five-mile walk will do
him good. He'll have time to cool off a little."

"He thinks that we have made a false entry here," Jessie went on,
resentfully, approaching the window ledge and turning the leaves of
the record. "Why," she continued, "it does not seem to me that even a
hardened criminal would dare to do a thing like that! And I'm not a
hardened criminal--yet. I am not sure but that I might become one if
I am obliged to see much of Mr. Horton, though!" She closed the book
and, stepping up on a chair, laid it on the shelf where our few books
were kept. When she stepped down again she had another book in her
arms. It was a large, square, leather-bound volume, almost identical
in ap