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Updated: June 28, 2025
"Never had a tree beat me yet," said the lad. "Then try your skill at that pole yonder, and see if you can get to the top of it." Without waiting to make answer George handed Waggie to Jenks, jumped from the tender to the ashy road-bed, and started towards the nearest telegraph pole, only a few feet away from the engine.
Waggie has been gathered to his canine forefathers these many years. But it is comforting to reflect that he lived to a fine old age, and died full of honors. He was known far and wide as the "Civil War Dog" a title which caused him to receive much attention, and a good many dainty bits of food in addition to his regular meals.
He spoke but the simple truth. He was glad that he did, for he hated to deceive a man who stood gazing upon him with such gentle, unsuspecting eyes. It was not long before Watson and George had gone into the kitchen, where they found a table laden with a profusion of plain but welcome food. Waggie, who had been given some milk, was lying fast asleep by the hearth.
And I guess you are just as hungry as the rest." Waggie wagged his tail with great violence. "Think of a warm, comfortable bed," observed the boy, with a sort of grim humor; "and a nice supper beforehand of meat and eggs " "And hot coffee and biscuits and a pipe of tobacco for me, after the supper," went on Watson. He turned from the river and peered into the rapidly increasing gloom.
George, however, lay tossing from side to side on a bed in the adjoining room, directly over the kitchen, with Waggie curled up on the floor close by. The more he thought of the strange behavior of Hare the more uneasy he became. Why had the farmer regarded him and his two companions with such a suspicious glance? Then George suddenly recollected where he had seen that face before. Yes!
Waggie gave a shrill yelp of emotion, but evidently concluded that it was safer not to chase a strange and muscular cat in a strange house. "Gracious me," cried Mrs. Hare; "did you bring that little fellow all the way from Kentucky?" "When I came away he followed me," replied George. He spoke the truth, although he did not add that he "came away" from a Union camp rather than from Kentucky.
George, no less sanguine, was standing near Watson and Macgreggor, and occasionally slipping a lump of sugar into the overcoat pocket which served as a sort of kennel for the tiny Waggie. There was nothing about the party to attract undue attention.
"I'll give you just five minutes," he said, addressing the ferryman, "and if by that time you haven't made up your mind to take us over the river, we'll take the law into our own hands, seize your boat, and try the journey ourselves." Waggie began to bark violently, as if he sympathized with this speech. The man smiled. "That will be a fool trick," he answered.
George began, in a very low tone, to whistle a few bars from "The Blue Bells of Scotland." It was a tune he had often indulged in during his travels from the Union camp. As he finished there came a bark of recognition from Waggie, and a slight stir in the car. "Are you there, Watson?" asked the boy, under his breath. "Can you hear me? If you can, scratch on the wall."
Peyton and his overseer hurried away before Waggie indulged in a little yelp, to ease his own feelings. He found things rather cramped at the bottom of the hogshead, to which he had been transferred from George's pocket; he longed to have more leeway for his tiny legs. "If you had given that bark a minute ago," muttered George, "you would have betrayed us, Master Waggie."
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