1,36 THE DESERT AND THE ROSE 



take a back seat, irrespective of their naturally 

 injured feeling's. And yet— a small black and tan 

 terrier died of joy on seeing me once more after 

 nearly a year of separation. The French author 

 of The Story of a Too Little Dog does not exag- 

 gerate when she makes him say: "My heart, large 

 as the heart of a nightingale, beats and consumes 

 itself with loving." Writes also a Frenchman : "Man 

 has not looked for the divine spark in animals. The 

 soul of a dog - is not as obscure as it is believed to 

 be." Of some dogs, let us say; not all dogs have 

 souls. 



Speaking of the big dogs on the ranch, for in- 

 stance — Peter had neither courage, heart nor soul. 

 Bravo, on the contrary, had all three. Bravo, the 

 Fierce One, was brought to me on the saddle of a 

 Mexican with the assurance that he came of fear- 

 less stock and would fight to the death. True, he 

 died in the defence of my property, as Monte died 

 for love of me. When I received the furry, protest- 

 ing ball already named Bravo I did not realize what 

 a treasure became mine. He developed into a hand- 

 some mongrel, with a dash of shepherd in his make 

 up but minus the latter's exasperating habit of 

 senseless barking. Ouiet as the neighborhood was 

 tramps and pilferers were not unknown, and to 

 their kind Bravo early posed as a Holy Terror. He 

 could slip in under a man's stick and drive his teeth 

 home so efficiently that flight was the sole resource, 

 nor was he to be shaken ofT until the intruder was in 

 the road where he belonged. He made very little 

 noise but was always where he was wanted. Bark- 



