But in justice to their implacable trainer, the dogs never appeared to be hurt; never a spot of blood flecked their glossy coats, nor did they ever come home limping.

Sounder grew wise, and Don gave up, but Moze appeared not to change.
"All hands ready to rustle," sang out Frank one morning.

"Old Baldy's got to be shod." This brought us all, except Jones, out of the cabin, to see the object of Frank's anxiety tied to a nearby oak.

At first I failed to recognize Old Baldy.

Vanished was the slow, sleepy, apathetic manner that had characterized him; his ears lay back on his head; fire flashed from his eyes.