134 



RECREATION 



money should take so much trouble 

 about a mere dog. 



I think the hope that perhaps Trilby 

 might come back to us was largely the 

 cause of our retaking the cottage on the 

 bluff. The first few weeks' without him 

 were terribly lonely ones. We missed 

 his kind, wise old face and the little 

 bark of pleasure which was wont to 

 greet us on our return, and at every 

 sound we would listen hoping it might 

 be our Odysseus returned. 



At last one rainy night we heard in 

 the distance the three short steps and 

 the one long that heralded Trilby's ap- 

 proach. A moment later, for none of 

 us could move, we heard that mellow 

 baritone of his lifted up in joy ; for 

 doors were no doors to Trilby when the 

 friends he loved were near. 



But Trilby was very thin, and half 

 of his right ear was gone, and he was 

 feebler than we had ever seen him. The 

 veterinarian we called in said he had 

 probably been starving and would need 

 all kinds of nourishing foods. He had 

 port wine in beef tea, and Lorry only 

 forebore to cook other dainties for him 

 when we assured him that such ex- 

 ecrable cooking would defeat its own 

 ends. 



When the warm weather came Trilby 

 regained his old strength and the 

 amount of oil we bought simply to 

 gratify his desire to carry a full can, 

 must have inflated Rockefeller's stocks. 



It happened that all four of us were 

 to be in New York for the winter, and 

 we determined to live near the Park, 

 so that Trilby might have daily prome- 

 nades. He sat on the stoop and smiled 

 down on us when we came near to 

 quarreling as to whom should take him 

 out on Sundays. That was a delightful 

 summer, and I think we were all the 

 happier and better for a dog's com- 

 panionship. 



It was Trilby's habit to make a last 

 patrol of the cottage before turning in 

 for the night. One night, early in Sep- 

 tember, it was so hot, that, for the sake 

 of coolness I left my bed, and with only 



a light covering over me, tried to rest 

 on the veranda. I don't know how long 

 I had slept when the sound of the three 

 short steps succeeded by the long one, 

 partially awoke me. Even in the semi- 

 somnolent state I was in I noticed that 

 he seemed to climb the seven steps to 

 the veranda with marked slowness. 

 Presently he came to my side and licked 

 my face, and I, desiring sleep more 

 than any earthly blessing, told him to 

 be a good man and lie down. 



It grew so cold in the early morning 

 that I determined to return to my bed 

 and finish my eight hours of sleep. 

 Trilby was lying at my side, his nose 

 resting as was usual on one paw so that 

 he might scent any danger to the friends 

 he loved. 



It was light enough to see some dark 

 stain on the painted white boards of the 

 veranda, and I stooped to examine them 

 and found they seemed to end with 

 Trilby. 



Something seemed to frighten me, 

 and I called sharply. 



"Trilby, Trilby," I said. 



But for the first time those honest 

 eyes did not look up with love into 

 mine, nor did his tail wag. 



Trilby was dead and in his side was 

 a hideous gun-shot wound. There was 

 his body lying stiff in the cold morning 

 light, and his soul gazing clown on us 

 from some other place. What does it 

 matter where? The Moon maybe, or 

 the Dog Star. Somewhere it must be, 

 for how can the soul of a friend like 

 Trilby pass into the waste of nothing- 

 ness? 



I called to the others and we 

 mourned together. 



There are some things in my life of 

 which I am very much ashamed ; but 

 that I knelt by his side and cried is 

 not one of them. Under the pine trees 

 with his head turned toward the road 

 by which we came nightly from the 

 ferry, so that he might rest the happier, 

 we laid him. And there he must rest 

 until the end of all things — our 

 Trilby. 



