Bingo 



at least, from the wretch who had murdered poor 

 old Tan. 



Then something took place which at once 

 changed my mind and led me to believe that 

 the mangling of the old hound was not by any 

 means an unpardonable crime, but indeed on 

 second thoughts was rather commendable than 

 otherwise. 



Gordon Wright's farm lay to the south of us, 

 and while there one day, Gordon, Jr., knowing 

 that I was tracking the murderer, took me 

 aside and looking about furtively, he whispered, 

 in tragic tones : 



" It was Bing done it." 



And the matter dropped right there. For I 

 confess that from that moment I did all in my 

 power to baffle the justice I had previously 

 striven so hard to further. 



I had given Bingo away long before, but the 

 feeling of ownership did not die; and of this in- 

 dissoluble fellowship of dog and man he was 

 soon to take part in another important illus- 

 tration. 



Old Gordon and Oliver were close neigh- 

 bors and friends; they joined in a contract to 



170 



