Traveling with such heavy packs on their backs, the two lads made but slow progress.  Every little while they had to stop to rest.  During one of these pauses they heard a low, whining sound.

“Listen!  What is that?” asked Charley, who loved animals and was keenly sensitive to their sufferings.  “It sounds like a dog.”

They stood motionless.  Faint but distinct came the unmistakable cry of a dog in distress.

Charley dropped his pack instantly.  “There’s a dog in trouble,” he said, “and we’ve got to help him.”

He began to whistle.  Then he called, “Here, boy!  Here, boy!”

From somewhere ahead of them came a joyous bark, followed by a painful whine.

Charley picked up his pack.  “Come on,” he said, and hastened toward the sound.  But he did not go far.  Soon he caught sight of a dog, painfully limping toward him.  Charley ran up to the animal, which wagged its tail violently and barked with joy.

“He’s only a half grown pup,” said Charley, noticing the big paws.  “Isn’t he a fine young fellow?”

The animal leaped up against Charley and licked his hand.  “Come here, boy,” said Charley, taking the dog in his arms.  “Let’s see what’s wrong.”

Charley began to examine the animal’s paws.  The dog submitted patiently.  “Nothing wrong with that one,” commented Charley, dropping a fore paw.

But when he began to feel the other front foot the dog whined with pain.  “No wonder,” said Charley with sympathy.  “Look here, Lew,” and he pointed to an enormous thorn that had embedded itself in the paw.

“Hold him tight while I take it out,” said Charley as he drew forth his knife, opened the small blade, slit the skin slightly, and carefully dug the thorn out.  The foot was festered and swollen.  Charley squeezed out the pus.

“Don’t let him get that paw in the dirt,” he said, and ran to his pack.  He fished out the first-aid kit and got some absorbent cotton and a disinfectant.  He wrapped a tiny bit of cotton around the end of a twig, wet it with water from the canteen and swabbed out the little wound.  Then he soaked another bit of cotton with the disinfectant and stuffed it into the foot.

“We’ll let that stay there a while,” he said.

“The dog is probably lost.  We’ll keep him until we find his owner.”

Relieved of the thorn, the little animal frisked about, limping but slightly.  He fawned upon Charley and seemed to be trying to express his gratitude.

The two boys shouldered their packs again and started on.  Charley whistled to the pup, but the call was unnecessary.  The pup stuck to their heels as close as a sticking-plaster.

“They say two’s a company, but three’s a crowd,” laughed Charley, “but I guess it doesn’t apply to dogs.”

“You never can tell,” replied Lew.  “A pup of that age may get you into all sorts of difficulty.”

“I’ll take a chance on it,” smiled Charley, as he bent and patted the dog.