Tom was never found wanting at such moments. To see him "ride a log"
was a sight to inspire admiration and respect in a Texas broncho-
buster. To kill such a superb animal might well rack a simple and
guileless cowboy whose name was--Dennis.
It is relevant to mention that Dennis, the dog, licked the hand that
beat him, fawned upon the foot that kicked him, and rendered unto his
lord and master implicit and invariable obedience. The Siwash, his
former owner, had trained him to retrieve, and of this Tom took
shameless advantage. He would throw his hat or a glove or a stick into
the middle of a rapid, and the gallant Dennis would dash into the
swirling waters, regardless of colliding logs, fanged rocks, or spiky
stumps. One day the dog got caught. Tom, with an oath, leapt on to the
nearest log, from that to another and another till he reached the poor
beast, whom he released with incredible skill and audacity, returning
as he had come, followed by the dog. The boys yelled their
appreciation of this astounding feat. Jimmy Doolan asked--
"What in thunder made ye do that, Tom?"
Tom scowled.
"I dunno," he answered.
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