There was no end to the uses to which we put the dear little dog in our plays. Never did he snarl, or lose his temper. He saw that we loved him; and he repaid our love by taking all the pains he could to please us.
But a dark time came for Milo and for us. A fright about mad dogs broke out in our town. A bad fellow said he had seen another dog, who was known to be mad, bite Milo. This was untrue; for Milo was at home at the time.
But all our prayers were of no use. We must bring Milo to the town-hall to have him shot. How we children wept and took on! Poor Milo, our dear little playmate! Must we lose him forever? We could not bear the thought.
The little dog himself saw that something was the matter, and whined at seeing us all so sad. All at once up started our eldest brother, Robert, and declared it should not be. He would rescue the little dog.

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