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Confinement seemed to increase his agony, and 

 he soon began to dash up and down the room 

 and to bite imaginary objects. I started out in 

 despair. In those days no veterinary surgeon of 

 repute lived in the town, but a man of some expe- 

 rience, usually in his cups, was supposed to know 

 how to doctor animals, after a fashion. Meeting 

 the man, I appealed to him in my desperation, 

 and asked him to go with me, at the same time 

 securing Charlie Hubbard, who had nursed Grouse 

 through his childish ailments, as an assistant. 

 Charlie put on a heavy glove, reached through 

 the door, grasped the frantic dog by the collar, 

 and slipped a muzzle over his head. It seemed a 

 most dangerous undertaking, for Grouse by this 

 time had all the symptoms generally ascribed to 

 a mad dog. The veterinary, however, was fear- 

 less, and the moment I spoke to Grouse he became 

 more quiet. Heroic measures were resorted to ; he 

 was blistered and poulticed, opiates were admin- 

 istered, the extreme suffering was relieved, and 

 he soon became unconscious. 



But this was not the end. For a week Grouse 

 lay at the point of death. The physician visited 

 him twice each day, for brain fever and inflam- 

 mation of the bowels had developed. The family 

 returned. We relieved each other in his care, 

 while Charlie was installed as head nurse. Then 

 the college boys heard of Grouse's illness, and 



