My First Summer 



cast-iron lid of our Dutch oven, weighing 

 about as much as the dog. It was linked di- 

 rectly to his collar close up under the chin, 

 so that the poor fellow seemed unable to stir. 

 He stood quite discouraged until after dark, 

 unable to look about him, or even to lie down 

 unless he stretched himself out with his front 

 feet across the lid, and his head close down 

 between his paws. Before morning, how- 

 ever, Jack was heard far up the height 

 howling Excelsior, cast-iron anchor to the 

 contrary notwithstanding. He must have 

 walked, or rather climbed, erect on his hind 

 legs, clasping the heavy lid like a shield 

 against his breast, a formidable iron-clad 

 condition in which to meet his rivals. Next 

 night, dog, pot-lid, and all, were tied up in 

 an old bean-sack, and thus at last angry Billy 

 gained the victory. Just before leaving home, 

 Jack was bitten in the lower jaw by a rattle- 

 snake, and for a week or so his head and neck 

 were swollen to more than double the nor- 

 mal size; nevertheless he ran about as brisk 



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