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 Master Frisky's first adventure, which was not a serious one, came the morning after I arrived home with him; and from that day on I was never quite certain what he would do next. He had gone with me to the barn, and while I was watering the horses, he was lying on the floor trying to catch a sunbeam; of a sudden I heard a few sharp barks, and then a most pitiful yelping.

I rushed to the scene of the disturbance, and found poor Frisky up in one corner of the barn, and our old white gander, Ginger, before him, pounding him fiercely with his wings. I drove Ginger away, and Master Frisky ran between my legs for protection. This was but one of many similar plights from which I rescued this curious pup.

He would get his nose pecked for poking into the hencoophen-coop [sic] to see the chickens; the cat would scratch him when he got too free with her kittens; and often he would come scurrying into the yard with his tail between his legs, and a large dog in hot pursuit.

For recreation he worried the cat, chased the kittens when the mother was not around, barked at the rooster, hunted grasshoppers, dug holes in the flower-beds, and hid bones under the lounge. Things that a well-behaved dog should do were never thought of by him, but his capers and tricks would fill a large book.

One morning, about a week after my first acquaintance with Master Frisky, I heard a