But now they were quite care-free, and content, and the
responsibilities of the winter seemed far away indeed.
But the most treasured moments of all to Baldy were those spent with Ben
when, waiting for Moose to finish his evening's tasks, he and the boy
wandered along the winding banks of the ditch. Far away across the sedgy
tundra lay the sea, a line of molten gold in the last rays of the
belated June sunset. Behind them rose the snow-crested peaks of the
Sawtooth Mountains, like frosted spires against an amber sky. Soon the
amber would change to amethyst and deepen to purple--fading at last to a
shadowy gray; and all the world seemed steeped in the mystic calm of
those twilight hours before the early Northern dawn.
And in those hours the brooding stillness of nature was broken only by
the voice of man; for it was then, in that vast solitude, that from the
lips of Ben Edwards came ringing words, sonorous sentences, impassioned
appeals.
Baldy did not know it, but he was at such times a learned Judge moved
strangely by unexpected eloquence; a jury melted to tears by a touching
plea for clemency; a Populace swayed to great deeds by a silver-tongued
Orator. Even, on rare occasions, he was the Loyal Throng that stood,
silent and uncovered, before the White House steps, thrilled by the
fiery patriotism of Mr. Edwards, the President of the United States of
America.
Then, he was just Baldy, a faithful loving dog that trotted happily at
the heels of the ragged little boy whose unselfishness had given him
the great chance of his life.
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