But the pack here is a notoriously fine one. The leader. Magic, is a
splendid dog, dark brindle in color, very swift and very plucky, also
most intelligent. He is a sly rascal, too. He loves to sleep on
Lieutenant Baldwin's bed above all things, and he sneaks up on it
whenever he can, but the instant he hears Lieutenant Baldwin's step on
the walk outside, down he jumps, and stretching himself out full
length in front of the fire, he shuts his eyes tight, pretends to be
fast asleep, and the personification of an innocent, well-behaved dog!
But Lieutenant Baldwin knows his tricks now, and sometimes, going to
the bed, he can feel the warmth from his body that is still there, and
if he says, "Magic, you old villain," Magic will wag his tail a
little, which in dog language means, "You are pretty smart, but I'm
smart, too!"
With all this outdoor exercise, one can readily perceive that the days
are not long and tiresome. Of course there are a few who yawn and
complain of the monotony of frontier life, but these are the
stay-at-homes who sit by their own fires day after day and let cobwebs
gather in brain and lungs. And these, too, are the ones who have time
to discover so many faults in others, and become our garrison gossips!
If they would take brisk rides on spirited horses in this wonderful
air, and learn to shoot all sorts of guns in all sorts of positions,
they would soon discover that a frontier post can furnish plenty of
excitement.
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