Frank of Freedom Hill

hing his chores before dark, looked back after passing Old Man Thornycroft's house to find Buck trying to follow him-trying to, because the old man, who hated to see anybody or anything b

same time to wag his tail. He was tan-coloured, lean as a rail, long-eared, a hound every inch; and Davy was a ragged country boy who lived alone with

to the hound's eyes, would hardly be putting it strong enough. It was more than love-it was perfect understanding, perfect comprehension. "I'm your dog," said the hound's upraised, melancholy eyes. "I

had worn on the neck, then at Old Man Thornycroft's bleak, unpainted house on the hill, with the unhomelike yard and the tumbl

me along?"

r sky the passion and longing of his soul. Davy understood, shook his head, looked once more

"He ain't fitten to own a d

n the road, then he turned an

" he muttered.

n him and home. Poised on top of the high rail fence that bordered the road, he looked back. The hound was still trying to follow, walking straddle-legged, head down, all entangled with the taut chai

he fence. He had jumped, the block had caught and was hanging him. Davy rushed to him. Breathing fast, he unsnapped the chain. The block and chain fell on the other side of the fence and the dog was free. Shrewdly the boy looked back up the road

d Squire Kirby toward them, his pipe in his mouth, his white beard stuck cozily inside the bosom of his big overcoat. There was no use to run, no use to try to

ng along. Davy had been to his house many a time with eggs and chickens to sell, or with a load of seasoned oak wood. Many a time he had warmed himself before Mr. Kirby's fire in

hound you got ther

ir," sa

ts an' 'possums

shor

ike a bargain. Got any good sweet potatoes? Well, you bring four or five bushels along to eat that 'possum with. Haulin' any

ercoat, brought out two red apples, and leaned down out o

an' take one of 'em home

n whose dog this was. What difference did it make, anyhow? He hadn't stolen anything. He couldn't let a dog choke

lk about it at the time, and he remembered how white his mother's face had been. Old Man Thornycroft had refused to wait, and his mother had had to

of us would have loaned you the money-gladly, gladly!" He had risen from the fire and

the bedroom window of the little one-storied unpainted house came a bright red glow, and from the kitchen the smell of

asked, "where d

st follow

ose dog

a-he just too

re,

down the road-

belong to

Look at him, Ma. Mighty nigh starved to death. Lemme keep him. We can feed him on scraps. He can sleep under the h

s eager eyes, then at the dog beside him. "All righ

of haze; he hurried out with a tin plate of scraps; he fed the grateful, hungry dog on the kitchen steps. He begged some vaseline from his mother and rubbed it on the sore neck. Then he got two or three empty gunnysacks out of the corncrib, crawled

t, old feller

y dust. He climbed out of his clothes, leaving them in a pile in the mid

e said. "O

her's death there was too much for him to do at home. He hunted in the opposite direction from Old Man Thornycroft's. It was three miles away; barriers

told them the truth. But then the long-drawn bay of the hound would come from the bottoms ahead, and he would hurry to the summons, his face flushed and eager. The music of the dog running, the sound of the shots, and his own triumpha

a trail! I never see anything like it, Ma. I never did! I'll skin '

inned the rabbits, he saw other days ahead like this, and whistled and sang

it turned the bend in the road. He quickly dropped his tools, called Buck to him, and got behind the house where he could see without being seen. The buggy

I had chained to the dog beside the road. I heered Squire Jim Kirby talkin' to some men in Tom Belcher's sto' this very mornin'; just happened to overhear him as I come in. 'A boy an' a dog,' he says, 'is the happiest

mother, but he could hear her voice tre

picked him up-that's where he tolled him off! Didn't I tell you, woman, I seen him pass? Didn't I tell you I found the block down the road? Didn't know who

led Mrs. Al

the house. The hound stuck very close to him, eyes fu

n. "You didn't know whose dog it was, did y

d the boy.

didn't he? That's what he done, didn't he? Answer me, woman! You come her

d around a flower bed in the yard, and Davy stood near these sto

panted, his f

rnycroft had stopped. No man in his right mind wants to a

man! I didn't come here to raise no row. I just come here to warn you, Mrs. Allen

rs. Allen stood looking at the old miser, who was clambering int

g to him. He's terrible, Davy, terrib

up at her with grim

in' to do it,

ht that the summons came. Bob Kel

wed us. He wanted a warrant swore out right there. Mr. Kirby tried to argue with him, but it warn't no use. So at last Mr. Kirby turned to me. 'You go on back, Bob,' he said. 'This'll give me some more lookin' up to do. Tell my wife I'll just spend the night with Judge Fowler, an' git back in

e. The rural policeman went out and closed the door behind him. It had been informal, haphazard, like the life of the community in which t

split-bottom chair in the corner, his feet up on the rungs, and tried to be still; but his heart was pounding fast and there was a lump in his throat. Presently he got up and went out of doors, to get

iggling along under the beams, and he leaned against the house and lovingly pulled the briar-torn ears. A long time he stayed there, feeling on his face already the fi

ought Davy, he would go to Old Man Thornycroft's house this night, call him out, and thrash him in the road. If he were a man, he would curse, he would do something. He looked wildly about the room, the hopelessness of it all coming over him in a wave. Then suddenly, because

ees beside him, one arm about his shoulders, trying to look into his eyes. "You're my man, Da

ad against her breast. Then he saw that she was crying, an

Ma," he said; but he

and tossing, along with bitter thoughts of Old Man Thornycroft came other bitter thoughts of Mr. Kirby, whom, deep down in his boy's heart, he had worshipped-Mr. Kirby, who had sided with Old Man Thornycroft and sent a su

's store. A bitter wind cut their faces, but it was not as bitter as the heart of the boy. Only twice on that five-mile ride did he speak. The first time w

let him come on

Belcher's store, dim yonder through the swirlin

grimly, "I a

tears so near the surface. She told him that she knew it, and that eve

that court had probably already convened. Hands numb, the boy hitched the old mule to the only rack left under the shed, the

vercoats steaming, made way for them. Old Man Thornycroft looked quickly and triumphantly aroun

he said. "I'm busy tryin' this chicken-stealin' nigger. When I

lly in the presence of Mr. Kirby, for it is hard for a boy to be bitter long. But with growing anxiety he heard the sharp questions the magistrate asked the Negr

other man above him; and he saw the furtive grin on the face o

te spoke: "Mr. Thornycroft, step forward, sir. Put your hand on t

ails-his seeing Davy Allen pass in front of his house last Friday afternoon, his missing the dog, his finding the block of wood down the roa

d, "that's a dangerou

've got to say?"

t it?" demanded Th

I think so," he said quietly. "Stand aside. Davy Allen, step for

hirteen year old,

-stay an' support of your mother. You've had to carry the burdens and responsibilities of a man, Davy. The testimony

, his face

about it. Talk loud so

ted him, overawed him. Very large and imposing he looked there behind his little table, wi

ff an' left the

s,

chain from the block till the

ir, I

o get him to f

, he wan

in Thornycroft angrily, "if

t to me, sir," said Mr. Kirby. "What did

er he fol

l her whose

, s

you ought to have

tated. "Y

among the men crowded about. Somebody

ellin' about-how was i

he block by a staple. The other

you think th

n pound,

Old Man Thornyc

u? I told you to. It's evidence. Bob Kelley, go out to Mr. T

ed hat in his hand, breathing fast, afraid to look at his mother. Everybody turned when Kelley came in with the block of wood. Everybody craned th

aid Mr. Kirby. "Ta

e dog's neck," broke in Davy impulsi

't so!" cried

ut there?" as

, under t

o out an' bring th

to the other, then, seeing Davy, came to him and stood against him, still looking around with th

. He examined the raw place on the neck. "Any

declared Davy, "till I

s all this got to do with that boy stealin' that dog?" he

lace ceased to be Tom Belcher's sto', an' become a court of justice

ter, and stood pulling his chin, his

, s'pose you put another stick of wood in that stove an' poke up the fire." He took off his glasses, blew

man. Folks say he come from the wolf, but that ain't no reflection on him, seein' that we come from monkeys ourselves;

s different from other four-footed critters. For instance, it has been held that a dog has a right to protect not only his life but his dignity; that where a man worries a dog beyond what would be reasonable to expect any self-respectin' critter to stand

s a man walkin' along the track, he has a right to presume that the man, bein' a critter of more or less intelligence, will git off, an' he is not called on to stop under ordinary circumstance

dog. If the engineer has reason to suspect that the dog's mind is occupied with some engrossin' topic, he must stop the train. That case has been tested in this very state, where a dog was on the track settin' a covey of birds

other's grip on his arm. Everyone was listening so closely that the whispered sneering comment of

n spirit if not in actual words. Now this court of mine here in Tom Belcher's sto' ain't like other courts. I have to do the decidin' myself; I have to interpret the true spirit of the law without tec

an' I know, he has spoke the truth this day, an' there ain't no evidence to the contrary. The boy did not entice the dog. He even went down the road, leavin' him behind. He run back only when the dog was in dire need an' chokin' to death. He wasn't called on to put that block an' chain back on the dog. He

ped Mrs. Al

old man, stopping for a moment in the cleared space. "You're magistrate. What you say goes. But that dog thar-he's mine! He's my property-mine by

on't-don't say anything. You're free to go

s not adjourned yet. If you don't get back, I'll stick a fine to you for contempt you'll remembe

sat down, face flushed, eyes blazing. "Punch up tha

sat down at his side opposite his former master, looking around now and then at the

alive-an' a cat, we all know, don't eat much, just messes over her vittles. You condemned that po' beast, for no fault of his own, to the life of a felon. A houn' ain't happy at best, he's melancholy; an' a houn' that ain't allowed to run free is of all critters the wretchedest. This houn's neck is rubbed raw. God only knows what he's suffered in mind an' body. A man that would treat a dog that way ain't fitten to own one. An' I hereby notify you t

ternly at T

you will give up that houn' Buck-to me, say, or to anybody I decide will be kind to him-I will let the matter d

Old Man Thornycroft. "All o

, in the presence of these witnesses, turn over this dog to me, relinq

s silence; then the

He ain't wuth the s

d the do

called Mr. Kir

ld man, and slammed

of any, tendin' to show that this boy Davy Allen is not the proper person to turn over a houn' dog to, I hope he will speak up." He waited a moment. "In the absence of any o