Ruth play.

Among the events of that week were two that impressed Mark deeply, as
they seemed to be connected in some way with the face he had seen at
the window. One of these was the mysterious disappearance, on that same
night, of a loaf of bread and a cold roast duck from the kitchen. The
other was the appearance, two days later, at the kitchen door, of a
poor wounded dog, who dragged himself out from the woods back of the
house, and lay down on the step, evidently in great pain.

Ruth saw him as he lay there, panting and moaning, and ran to tell
Mark, and her father and mother, of their visitor and his wretched
plight. They all went to see him, and after a careful examination of
the suffering animal, Mr. Elmer said he had been cruelly treated and
badly wounded; but that, with proper treatment and care, he could be
cured. "He is a cross between a pointer and a hound," continued Mr.
Elmer, "and looks like a valuable dog. The wounds from which he is
suffering are those caused by a charge of small shot, that must have
been fired into him quite recently. I will do what I can for him, and
then I shall turn him over to you and Ruth, Mark, and if he recovers he
shall belong to you both. His present owner has forfeited all claim to
him by cruel treatment, for without our care now the poor beast would
certainly die. The first thing to do is to give him water, for he is
very feverish."

The dog seemed to know, as well as his human friends, that the pain he
suffered, while most of the shot were extracted on the point of a
pen-knife, was for his good; for while he moaned and whined during the
operation, he lay perfectly still, and did not offer the slightest
resistance. After his wounds had been dressed, he was carefully removed
to a bed of soft moss on the back porch, and here he lay quietly, only
feebly wagging his tail whenever any of his new friends came to see him.

"Who could have shot this dog?" and "Why did the animal drag himself to
our kitchen door?" were questions that puzzled Mark considerably during
the rest of that day and for some days afterwards.

During that week Jan Jansen and the two negroes had worked hard at
cutting away the undergrowth immediately around the house, and by
Saturday night they had wonderfully improved the general appearance of
things. The garden in front of the house had been cleared of everything
except the ornamental shrubs properly belonging there. The fence had
been freed from its c