horse, that stallion of yours. He appreciates fine music.”
Joey stayed outside with Crosby, who drank thirstily from the water trough. Fury had come to the near fence of his corral, and seemed to be watching the dog with great interest.
“Come on, Crosby,” Joey said. “I’ll take you over and introduce you to Fury.”
The dog bounded gaily at Joey’s side, his jaws dripping with water. As they arrived at the corral, Fury bent his ears forward and leaned over the fence. Crosby made happy dog noises and rubbed his nose against Fury’s muzzle. Fury stepped back and cantered around the corral. Crosby, wriggling with joy, squeezed through the bars of the fence and ran beside him, leaping up playfully. Fury seemed pleased with his new friend. For a moment Joey watched them playing like a colt and a puppy, then raced back to the barn.
“Jim!” he shouted. “Fury’s found a mascot! Look at them out there!”
Jim shaded his eyes and watched the two animals chasing each other around the enclosure.
“They’re certainly having a fine time. Fury’s acting like a youngster.”
“They took to each other right away,” Joey said excitedly. “Jim, do you think we can have Crosby? He’ll make Fury forget that white mare in no time.”
“You may be right, but don’t get your hopes up before you ask Doc Beemis. Maybe Doc doesn’t want to part with him.”
“I’ll ask him. I’ll tell him I’ll buy Crosby—for cash.”
“Go to it,” Jim said. “And good luck.”
Doc Beemis was shaving in Pete’s bathroom when Joey ran in. Startled, Doc nicked his chin with the razor.
“Drat!” he exclaimed. “Don’t ever sneak up behind a man when he’s using a straight razor. You almost made me slice my jugular vein.”
“I’m sorry,” Joey said breathlessly, “but this is important. It’s about Crosby.”
Doc’s jaws dropped. “Good grief! Don’t tell me my dog has eaten one of the horses!”
“No. He loves horses, especially Fury.”
Joey told Doc about Fury’s need of a mascot, and finished by asking if he’d consider selling Crosby. The man seemed shocked at the idea.
“What? Do you have the audacity to suggest that I would part with my shaggy partner for mere gold?”
Joey hesitated. “Well, I know how you feel about Crosby. I’m sure you love him very much. But Fury loves him, too, and he loves Fury. So please, Doc, won’t you let me buy him?”
Doc Beemis dabbed at the cut on his chin before answering. “Joseph, my lad,” he said finally, “obviously you don’t realize the value of that noble animal. Crosby is descended from a long line of canine kings, beginning with a royal creature named Tomarctus, who roamed the world fifteen million years before you were born.”
“No kidding,” said Joey, amazed. “Is that the truth?”
“Naturally. I wouldn’t delude you for all the gold in Peter’s teeth. Through Crosby’s veins courses the blood of Canis Familiaris Intermedius, plus a few strains of the Alaskan Malamute, the Prussian Weimaraner, and that greatest dog of all, Bow-Wowis Snifferanimus. Do you honestly think you can afford to purchase such a priceless treasure?”
“Gosh, I guess not,” answered Joey glumly. “I had no idea Crosby was such a great dog.” He turned to leave. “Thanks, anyway.”
“Wait,” said Doc. “Don’t give up so easily. Even though Crosby is my four-footed companion of the open road, I wouldn’t stand in the way of his finding a good home, that is, if the price is right. What figure did you have in mind?”
Joey saw a ray of hope. “Well, I have nine dollars and forty-eight cents. Would that be enough?”
Doc thought for a moment. “You have that amount in cash?”
“Sure, I was saving up for a new rifle.”
Doc’s eyes glistened with sentiment. “It touches my heart, Joseph, that you would sacrifice a new rifle for a mere dog.”
“What do you mean a ‘mere’ dog? You just told me Crosby was a priceless treasure.”
“That’s true,” Doc said quickly, “I did, and it’s a fact. But there’s something about a boy yearning for a dog that twangs the strings of my heart. What was the exact amount you offered?”
“Nine dollars and forty-eight cents.”
“It’s a deal. Crosby’s yours.”
“Oh boy!” cried Joey, grabbing Doc’s arm.
“Drat!” said Doc. “Never seize a man’s arm when he’s holding a blade against his throat!”
“I’m sorry,” Joey said, running out of the bathroom. “Wait’ll I tell Jim and Pete I’ve got a mascot for Fury!”
During the rest of the morning it was evident that Fury and Crosby were made for each other. The playful, shambling dog refused to leave Fury’s side, even when called to the house for lunch. In the end, Joey was obliged to carry a large plateful of food out to the corral, which he did happily.
“How do you like him, Fury?” Joey asked. “Isn’t he the greatest?”
Fury poked Crosby with his nose, then raised his head and gave a satisfied snort. Crosby answered by breaking into one of his mournful songs.
“I don’t think you’ll have to lock Fury in the barn any more at night,” said Jim at suppertime. “He’ll never run away as long as Crosby’s close by.”
Joey grinned. “Boy, I’m sure glad we got that settled. I was really worried.”
“Go on,” Pete said. “You wasn’t worried—you was plumb jealous. Come on now, Joey, admit it. Wasn’t you jealous?”
“Sure I was,” Joey confessed.
Doc Beemis leaned across the table and helped himself to a heaping spoonful of mashed potatoes. “Then why aren’t you jealous of Crosby? He and Fury are thick as two thieves.”
“I know, but I don’t mind his liking a dog. A mare’s different.”
“Jealousy, the jaundice of the soul,” murmured Doc Beemis, as he drowned his pork chops in brown gravy.
“How’s that agin?” asked Pete.
“I was quoting John Dryden.”
Pete scowled. “Who’s he? One of yer customers?”
“Ignorance is bliss,” said Doc, cramming a forkful of meat into his mouth. “Kindly remain blissful, my ancient friend—and pass those delicious dumplings.”
After supper, when Joey
