Motion Picture Story Magazine (Feb-Jul 1912)

Rowdy and His New Pal (Edison) By LULU MONTANYE "x to, you cant go, Rowdy," del\ clared Bob, firmly. But Rowdy continued to tease. If ever a dog spoke plainly, Rowdy was doing it now. His eyes fairly shone with desire, and his tail wagged with pathetic appeal as he capered around his young master. '"No, I'm going to the store for mother, and I'll be right back again. You cant come. Lie down, sir ! " Rowdy stretched his full length upon the piazza, his nose straight out between his two paws, and gazed reproachfully down the street after Bob's vanishing form. Being only a dog, he could not argue the decree, but he felt very unreconciled. It was such fun to go to the store with Bob ! To chase in and out among the drays, trucks, cars and automobiles of the crowded street, escaping death by a hair's breadth and hearing Bob's frightened whistle calling him back. Why couldn't a dog be allowed to have a little fun ? "I might as well be a pussy-cat or a canary bird, ' ' thought Rowdy, with a dog pout, " if I have to stay cooped up at home all the time ! ' ' When any human being sits down for fifteen minutes and does nothing but meditate upon the wrongs and injuries that are being inflicted upon him, he works himself into a state of mind where he is convinced that something desperate should be done at once. Then, if he is the aggressive type, he does it ; if he is not that type, he lapses into sulkiness and inefficiency. Dogs are not so very different, after all, from the beings we call human, and Rowdy went thru much the same mental processes. Then, being an aggressive dog, he determined to assert himself. He would go to the store alone ! He frisked joyously down the street in the direction Bob had taken, 41 rejoicing in his new independence. Seeing a sleek white cat upon the sidewalk, he promptly chased it into the seclusion of its own back yard. What business had a cat to be alone upon the streets ? Coming back from this expedition, he ran gaily on, not noticing in his excitement that he had turned a corner and was getting into an unfamiliar locality. Suddenly he stopped and began to nose about inquiringly. Rowdy was an unusually intelligent, well-trained dog, and undoubtedly would have found his way home, had not fate intervened in the guise of a group of street boys. "Hi, boys, look at the swell dog!" came a cry, followed by a long whistle and a "Here, dog; come here, sir!" Rowdy stopped and looked around. He was a friendly and well-mannered dog, accustomed to replying when he was spoken to. But this crowd of boys, who came pushing around him, were not like his young master's friends. They were dirty and queerlooking. Most of them were smoking short stubs of cigarets. Still, Rowdy's tail gave a friendly wag as one of them seized him by the collar. "Gee, it's a silver collar!" declared the tall one, who had begun the investigation. "Here, how do they git it off?" "If youse gits de collar, I gits de dog, see ! " yelled another boy. In an instant the gang was in a tumult. A fight was on for the possession of poor Rowdy, who was pushed this way and that, while a dozen hands dragged at his collar. Rowdy was tasting the fruits of disobedience, and finding them very bitter. "Here, let th' dog alone!" broke in a voice suddenly. "Wot ails yer? Beat it, or I'll call Big Mike !" The crowd broke and ran, hooting, down an alleyway. Big Mike, who