BUTTERNUT AND BLUE.
“Mr. Walter, where did you find this great, nice, beautiful dog?” asks Marie, who has been having a romp around the room with Ponto.
“I didn’t find him; he came to me.”
“Came to you! Oh, now there’s some story about him! And you are going to tell it to me?”
“No, Marie, it’s all about a battle. Girls don’t like to hear about battles.”
“Oh, yes, they do, sometimes. And you know you never will tell us anything about the war;—does he, Katy?”
But Katy has quietly left the room.
“Well, Marie, once I woke up after a battle, and something, I couldn’t see what, was tugging at my coat. There was a sun in the sky the last I could remember. Now it was night, and a very dark night. I reached out to feel what sort of creature this was. Then I first discovered that my right hand was gone. But with the other I could feel the head and long silken ears of a dog. He seemed pleased to have menotice him, licked my face, and gamboled about, then commenced to tug at my clothes again. He seemed to want something of me. I finally got up and tried to follow him—tried, I say, because it is no easy matter to walk about the field of battle the night after it has taken place. One is apt to find obstacles in his way. As I groped along, and my eyes became accustomed to the darkness, I could just distinguish from the surrounding shadows the figure of this strange guide of mine. It was a monster of a dog—a black, moving mass. I had known of one other like him. An idea occurred to me. Perhaps this and that dog were the same. That dog’s name was Ponto. So I called—‘Ponto?’ to try him. Back he came bounding, directly, leaping upon me, and seemed quite delighted. I was pretty certain this was the dog I knew. As I went along talking to him, some one spoke from among the shadows—‘Is that you, Walt?’ There was only one person who had been wont to address me after that fashion. He had recognizedmyvoice. Now I recognizedhis. And it would have been strange, surely, if we had not known each other’s voice. We were together at college for four years, and great friends—‘most intimate,’ that is the expression, I believe. I sometimes went home and spent vacation with him. (He lived in Virginia, among the mountains.) And sometimes he came homewith me. You would hardly remember him; yet, when a very small carriage, containing a very small child, used to stop at our door, he was always on hand to lift out that little Mademoiselle and bring her in—only a dainty bundle of embroideries, apparently, till two bright eyes peeped forth, and pretty soon two little pink fists that would get at his hair and pull it, andthatused to tickle him immensely. Yes, as I said, we were the best of friends. Then suddenly there was a great gulf between us; and we saw, and heard, and knew no more of each other. It appears that, though we were not aware of it, we had been fighting against each other that very day. But now Ponto had brought us together again, and we were glad enough to meet. So glad we could forget, at last, that he belonged to the army of the South, and I to the army of the Union. We had a great many matters to talk over, not having seen each other in some time. Ah, but wecouldn’tsee, as you know. So we had to be content with saying our farewells in the dark. For that was the way our talk ended, Marie. He passed away, there in the night, I supporting him as best I could. Ponto was his dying gift. Come here, old fellow.” And the Lieutenant hides his face against the dog’s shaggy shoulder.
Marie steals softly from the house and toward home. And when, a moment after, Kate comes down the hallstairs and into the room, Ponto lifts to her great, gentle, human, sympathizing eyes. Perhaps he guesses she, too, has a share in those remembrances. For who shall deny that he has thoughts?