(Ko6 of t$t (Roefcto 



'JKuRRYiNG out of the flood-swept mountains 

 ^i/ in northern Colorado, in May, 1905, I 

 came upon a shaggy black and white dog, hope- 

 lessly fastened in an entanglement of flood- 

 moored barbed-wire fence that had been caught 

 in a clump of willows. He had been carried 

 down with the flood and was coated with earth. 

 Masses of mud clung here and there to his mat- 

 ted hair, and his handsome tail was encased as 

 though in a plaster cast. He was bruised, and 

 the barbs had given him several cuts. One ear 

 was slit, and a blood-clot from a cut on his head 

 almost closed his left eye. 



Had I not chanced upon him, he probably 

 would have perished from hunger and slow tor- 

 ture. Though he must have spent twelve hours 

 in this miserable barbed binding, he made no 

 outcry. The barbs repeatedly penetrated his 

 skin, as I untangled and uncoiled the wires from 

 around his neck and between his legs. As he 



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