"He's
dragging some heavy thing over the ice."
Soon he leaped in at the door, the little red sleigh bouncing after
him. The dog was in shafts and harness. Over the sleigh was a
tiny cover of sail-cloth shaped like that of a prairie schooner.
Bouncing over the door-step had waked its traveller, and there was
a loud voice of complaint in the little cavern of sail-cloth.
Peering in, they saw only the long fur of a gray wolf. Beneath it
a very small boy lay struggling with straps that held him down.
Allen loosed them and took him out of the sleigh, a ragged but
handsome youngster with red cheeks and blue eyes and light, curly
hair. He was near four years of age then, but big and strong as
any boy of five. He stood rubbing his eyes a minute, and the dog
came over and licked his face, showing fondness acquired they knew
not where. Mrs. Allen took the boy in her lap and petted him, but
he was afraid--like a wild fawn that has just been captured--and
broke away and took refuge under the bed. A long time she sat by
her bedside with the candle, showing him trinkets and trying to
coax him out. He ceased to cry when she held before him a big,
shiny locket of silver, and soon his little hand came out to grasp
it.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25