Rensselaer Republican, Volume 26, Number 5, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 28 September 1893 — “IN MEMORIAM.” [ARTICLE]

“IN MEMORIAM.”

Tragic Death of “Bingo*-- While in the Line of Duty. M, M, arsh, in Chisago Inter Ocean. “Yes,” said the big man with the gun case to the little man in spectacles, “I’m off for a try at the birds.” The small man lifted his feet out of the way of the gun case and made room in the seat beside him. “Got my dog in the baggage car,” continued the big man. “He’s a dandy. Best dog I ever shot over, unless ’twas your old Bingo. By the way, you don’t go out any more yourself. What’s the reason. Bing getting old and lazy?” The small man opened his penknife and thoughtfully scratched at a splash of mud on his trouser leg. “No, I don’t keep any dog now. Old Bing is dead?” “Dead, is he? Well, well he was gettingalong in years. A general breaking down, I Suppose.” There was a pause and the little man scratched away industriously. “No, it wasn’t that. I’ll tell you about

it,” said he suddenly, “You see, the last time I had him out we were on Smith’s farm. You know the"place, just .over the county line. You remember that big cornfield where the willows grow over the creek and the railroad cuts i through one corner? Well, we were down there, and Bing, being thirsty, ran across the track, in among the willows, to get to the water. I thought there might be birds there, and I was topfar behind for a shot, so I called him back. Just then a bird got up beyond him, and I shouted to him to charge. “You know 1 don’t see very well, but I thought that he wasn’t minding, so I shouted again. The old fellow hesitated for a moment, then he dropped down, and just then the train came around the curve and — and— ’’ The small man’s voice faltered a little when he went on. “You see I thought that he was farther away, but he was right on the track, and he had obeyed me at the cost of his life. Somehow I haven’t cared much for hunting since then.” The small man shut his knife with ’ a snap and looked out of the window, and the big man exclaimed, “Well, well, by Jove! Poor old Bing!" Then the big man blew his nose violently, muttering that that was the only way to dislodge those cursed cinders, while the little man wiped his glasses upon a chamoisskin polisher and sighed.