Mother bit her lip and twisted the handkerchief between her fingers. In the distance she could hear the shouts and see the beams of the flashlights sweeping the fields and forests.
Midnight had come and gone, but still no word of Dillon, her four-year-old son. He’d been missing since suppertime. «If only Frank were here,» the woman said to her husband as he ran in for a sip of water. «We’d put him on the trail, and he’d lead the searchers straight to our little boy.»
«Frank?» the man responded angrily.» That good-for-nothing mutt couldn’t find his own tail.» He sighed. «Put that down as our next purchase—a dog with a pedigree, one with good blood in its veins. We need an animal we can rely on!»
The hours dragged by. «Dear God,» Mother prayed, «please look after Dillon. Please!»
At 3:00 A.M. she heard people talking—excited voices coming toward the house! Grabbing a sweater, she ran outside.
Hundreds of searchers were walking up the street. The man in the lead was carrying a wriggling bundle, and running alongside him, barking and yipping with joy, was Frank the mutt.
«We were searching the tall grasses by the river when we heard the dog howling,» the man said as he lowered a grinning child into his mother’s arms.
«And,» the little boy continued, «Frank kept me warm. He sat beside me all night!»
The local radio station awarded Frank a medal, and Father said, «Get another dog? I should say not! Where would we ever find a more faithful friend than Frank!»