At last things came to such a pass that whenever he felt like taking a littleexercise，or had a few minutes of spare time，or even happened to think of it，Bingo would sally forth at racing speed over the plain and a few minutes later return，driving the unhappy yellow cow at full gallop before him.
At first this did not seem very bad，as it kept the cow from straying too far;but soon it was seen that it hindered her feeding.She became thin and gave less milk;it seemed to weigh on her mind too，as she was always watching nervously for that hateful dog，and in the mornings would hang around the stable as though afraid to venture off and subject herself at once to an onset.
This was going too far.All attempts to make Bingo more moderate in his pleasure were failures，so he was compelled to give it up altogether.After this，though he dared not bring her home，he continued to show his interest by lying at her stable door while she was being milked.
As the summer came on the mosquitoes became a dreadful plague，and the consequent vicious switching of Dunne’s tail at milking-time was even more annoying than the mosquitoes.
Fred，the brother who did the milking，was of an inventive as well as an impatient turn of mind，and he devised a simple plan to stop the switching.He fastened a brick to the cow’s tail，then set blithely about his work assured of unusual comfort while the rest of us looked on in doubt.Suddenly through the mist of mosquitoes came a dull whack and an outburst of“language”。The cow went on placidly chewing till Fred got on his feet and furiously attacked her with the milking-stool.It was bad enough to be whacked on the ear with a brick by a stupid old cow，but the uproarious enjoyment andridicule of the bystanders made it unendurable.
Bingo，hearing the uproar，and divining that he was needed，rushed in and attacked Dunne on the other side.Before the affair quieted down the milk was spilt，the pail and stool were broken，and the cow and the dog severely beaten.
Poor Bingo could not understand it at all.He had long ago learned to despise that cow，and now in utter disgust he decided to forsake even her stable door，and from that time he attached himself exclusively to the horses and their stable.
The cattle were mine，the horses were my brother’s，and in transferring his allegiance from the cow-stable to the horse-stable Bingo seemed to give me up too，and anything like daily companionship ceased，and yet，whenever any emergency arose Bingo turned to me and I to him，and both seemed to feel that the bond between man and dog is one that lasts as long as life.Bingo’s loyalty to the horses was quite remarkable;by day he trotted beside them，and by night he slept at the stable door.Where the team went Bingo went，and nothing kept him away from them.This interesting assumption of ownership lent the greater significance to the following circumstance.
I was not superstitious，and up to this time had had no faith in omens，but was now deeply impressed by a strange occurrence in which Bingo took a leading part.There were but two of us now living on the De Winton Farm.One morning my brother set out for Boggy Creek for a load of hay.It was a long day’s journey there and back，and he made an early start.Strange to tell，Bingo for once in his life did not follow the team.My brother called to him，but still he stood at a safe distance，and eying the team askance，refused to stir.Suddenly he raised his nosein the air and gave vent to a long，melancholy howl.He watched the wagon out of sight，and even followed for a hundred yards or so，raising his voice from time to time in the most doleful howlings.All that day he stayed about the barn，the only time that he was willingly separated from the horses，and at intervals howled a very death dirge.I was alone，and the dog’s behavior inspired me with an awful foreboding of calamity，that weighed upon me more and more as the hours passed away.
About six o’clock Bingo’s howlings became unbearable，so that for lack of a better thought I threw something at him，and ordered him away.But oh，the feeling of horror that filled me！Why did I let my brother go away alone Should I ever again see him alive I might have known from the dog’s actions that something dreadful was about to happen.
At length the hour for his return arrived，and there was John on his load.I took charge of the horses，vastly relieved，and with an air of assumed unconcern，asked，“All right”
“Right，”was the laconic answer.Who now can say that there is nothing in omens.
And yet when，long afterward，I told this to one skilled in the occult，he looked grave，and said，“Bingo always turned to you in a crisis”
“Yes.”
“Then do not smile.It was you that were in danger that day;he stayed and saved your life，though you never knew from what.”