Mr. Benedict himself, or even
Dingo! In fact, might it not have been Dingo?"
A yelping was heard; and Jack, taking hold of the dog's large head,
gave him several little friendly taps.
"Dingo," he asked, "did you save our friend Dick?"
At the same time he turned the dog's head from right to left.
"He says, no, Hercules!" said Jack. "You see that it was not he.
Dingo, did Hercules save our captain?"
The little boy forced Dingo's good head to move up and down, five or
six times.
"He says, yes, Hercules! he says, yes!" cried little Jack. "You see
then that it was you!"
"Friend Dingo," replied Hercules, caressing the dog, "that is wrong.
You promised me not to betray me."
Yes, it was indeed Hercules, who had risked his life to save Dick
Sand. But he had done it, and his modesty would not allow him to
agree to the fact. Besides, he thought it a very simple thing, and he
repeated that any one of his companions would have done the same under
the circumstances.
This led Mrs. Weldon to speak of old Tom, of his son, of Acteon and
Bat, his unfortunate companions.
They had started for the lake region. Hercules had seen them pass with
the caravan of slaves. He had followed them, but no opportunity to
communicate with them had presented itself. They were gone! they were
lost!
Hercules had been laughing heartily, but now he shed tears which he
did not try to restrain.
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