The Good Dog Read Online Free PDF Page A

with a loud bang.
    Jack came back to McKinley. “Boy, you sure don’t like that guy, do you?”
    McKinley, feeling more relaxed now, wagged his tail slightly.
    â€œBut you don’t have to like him to find his dog, right? Come on now, McKinley, don’t let me down. Find Duchess!”

6
    M cKinley gazed up at Jack, whined, and lifted his paw.
    The boy squatted down before him. “You know Duchess’s smell now, big guy,” he said. “I know you do. So come on, put your nose to the ground and find her. For me, okay?”
    McKinley lay down, resting his head on his forepaws. Strawberry Park was the one place he would not go.
    â€œDon’t quit on me, McKinley,” Jack pleaded. “Please. I really want to find her. Come on, boy. Let’s find Duchess!”
    Rolling his eyes, McKinley studied Jack. Why, he wondered, couldn’t humans spend as much time learning about dogs as dogs spent on humans? He needed to tire the pup out so he would give up the search on his own. Then he remembered the perfect place, a trail that headed straight into the woods at the end of Horse Smell Way. Trees and bushes grew thickly on both sides. On one side a small creek trickled—Fish Creek, the dogs called it. Most of all, the trail was a stiff climb.
    McKinley rose to his feet and gave himself a shake. He looked at the sky. Night was not far off. He should be able to exhaust the boy before dark. With a sharp bark, McKinley broke into a run.
    â€œHey!” Jack jumped on his bike and pedaled hard to catch up.
    With a look back at the pup, McKinley ran on, his nose to the ground as if he were following a scent. All the while he wagged his tail so the boy would think they were on a real hunt.
    â€œWay to go, boy! You can find her!” Jack cried,pedaling furiously. “I bet she’s close, huh? Good boy!”
    After a short distance the trail narrowed and rose so steeply that Jack had to stop and dismount from his bike. Running, he pushed it to the top of the hill.
    McKinley was waiting for him.
    â€œDid Duchess come this way, fella?” Jack called. “How long ago? I’m getting tired.”
    Barking twice, McKinley dropped into his playful posture, inviting Jack to roughhouse.
    â€œStop, McKinley,” Jack snapped. “No fooling around. I really want that reward money. Keep going.”
    Stop. Going. McKinley understood. He halted his frisking, looked around, and watched the treetops sway. There was usually a breeze before the darkness came.
    Two trails led away from the hilltop. One was easy for the bike. The other wound upward into the foothills. Determined to make the pup want to quit, McKinley bolted for the high trail, tail wagging, mouth open.
    Jack, pedaling again, followed after. In a few moments he stopped. “McKinley!” he shouted. “Hold on. This is too steep for me!” He dumped his bike to the ground and began to run.
    McKinley barked and continued on. Once, twice, he looked back. Jack was puffing hard.
    â€œMcKinley,” the pup called. “Not so fast!”
    Each time Jack caught up, McKinley bounded off. By the time they reached the top of the next hill, the pup was thoroughly winded.
    â€œThink . . . we have . . . a lot farther . . . to go?” he panted.
    McKinley barked again and ran ahead.
    â€œCome on!” Jack begged. “Slow down!”
    They came to a level area, and McKinley went on at a slower pace.
    â€œBetter,” the boy said.
    But then once again the trail rose. It became narrower, crowded in by rough, often sharp rocks.
    â€œHow much . . . time till . . . we . . . get to Duchess?” Jack asked when he caught up, even more bushed than before.
    McKinley pawed the ground, barked sharply, and went forward a few paces.
    â€œWait!” Jack commanded. He threw himself down and leaned against a rock. “I need to rest for a moment,