PRIVATE BRAVE was comfortably seated in the home living room with his family gathered around to hear what had happened while he was in the hospital.

“It was about four o’clock in the afternoon,” he began. “I had just finished telling the boys about saving the baby, and all my other experiences which you know, when suddenly we heard a woman crying as she rushed past the ward door.

“‘Oh, Doctor,’ she sobbed, ‘will he die—will my little boy die? He didn’t know the dog would bite, poor child! He says the dog isn’t mad, but everybody else says he is!’

“‘Come,’ said the doctor, ‘mad or not, we’ll fix this young man up so he’ll be quite safe. I’m glad you brought him to me immediately.’

“I was on my feet in an instant, and ran to the office door, for I was very anxious to hear what would be done for the little boy.

“‘This must be cauterized, Nurse,’ said the doctor. ‘Get nitrate of silver ready.’

“He dipped a wooden stick into the poison and turned it around in the wound, the little boy screaming with the pain.

“‘Oh, Doctor,’ asked his mother, ‘must he be hurt so much?’

“‘Safety must first be considered,’ replied the doctor. ‘We are probably destroying the dreadful germs of hydrophobia. And, next, this little boy must be given Pasteur treatment with the wonderful serum used to prevent hydrophobia, for hydrophobia means the most terrible suffering anybody could imagine. Of course, no one is quite certain that the dog was mad; for many a time a dog which has been nearly crazed with thirst, or been the victim of bad boys’ pranks, has been thought mad.’

“‘But this doggy wasn’t mad,’ the boy cried out, forgetting his pain. ‘A bad boy was twisting his tail and the poor doggy thought I did it because I was near!’

“‘Are you certain, little fellow?’ asked the doctor.

“‘Yes, sir, and after he bit me, a big man beat him with his cane, and the poor doggy ran yelping down the street. Oh, how you made my arm ache, Doctor!’

“‘Poor boy!’ said the doctor, ‘I really had to hurt you.’

“‘What should I have done, Doctor, if we had been miles from a physician?’ asked the mother.

“‘That’s a good question,’ replied Doctor Surecure. ‘I will tell you the simplest treatment for an untrained person to use—

For Dog Bite
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“Well, I am certainly glad to learn that, my son,” said Private Brave’s mother. “We had a terrible fright the day the little boy was bitten, for somebody said that our Mike did it.”

“What!” exclaimed Private Brave. “Did anybody dare accuse this most faithful and wonderfully brave dog-member of the Brave family?”

Mike had been lying at his young master’s feet; in fact, he hadn’t left him since he came home—not even to eat his dinner. On hearing his name, Mike stood up, wagging his tail so hard that you would have thought it would drop off unless it was nailed on.

He looked inquiringly upon the family, his mouth open and his intelligent brown eyes questioning what all this talk meant.

“It wasn’t you, Michael, old boy, good old fellow!” exclaimed Ibee, petting him.

“Bow! Bow!” barked Mike, and Ibee declared he smiled.

“Well,” said Private Brave, “that was—” He didn’t finish the sentence, for at that instant the next door neighbor came running into the room.

“Oh, come, Miss Shesa!” she exclaimed. “My baby’s dying—she’s swallowed poison.”