Summary

Portrait of Ingersoll Lockwood Ingersoll Lockwood Travels and Adventures of Little Baron Trump and His Wonderful Dog Bulger

Had So Too plunged a two-edged knife into my vitals I could not have felt a more agonizing hurt.
Bulger? My beloved—Arrested? Witchcraft? Chains; Prison?” I stammered out.
“I have so decreed!” calmly replied So Too. “Oh! no! no! no! I cried, it cannot—it must not be! He is no evil spirit—no evil dwells in him. He is but a simple, loving, intelligent dog! I crave suspension of this terrible decree! What hath he done? O beloved Bulger, is this thy reward for saving fourteen human lives? Is this the way in which thou art to be repaid for all thy courage, thy love, thy devotion?
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of Ingersoll Lockwood Ingersoll Lockwood Travels and Adventures of Little Baron Trump and His Wonderful Dog Bulger

The pitch and tar, softened by the heat of the water in Neptune’s Caldron, had bulged from the ship’s joints and allowed the calking to escape.
Like a sheet of card board, our rudder was now torn from its place and whirled away on the crest of a giant billow.
Behold us now at the very mercy of the storm, the plaything of wind and wave, a cockle shell fallen on the battle ground of nature’s waning elements.
Bulger, lashed to the rigging by my side, uttered no plaint, no cry of fear, no sound of distrust.
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of Ingersoll Lockwood Ingersoll Lockwood Travels and Adventures of Little Baron Trump and His Wonderful Dog Bulger

The Atlantic breeze has given me an appetite and, skipper,” I added, “a little broiled fowl for Bulger.”
“And now, for the land of warmth and sunshine!” I murmured, “now for the home of the orange and the palm! Cold winds like me not, I am a child of the tropics, born in a land where nature works and man plays. No chill blast ever whistled its sad tune over my cradle! Let those who will, spend one-half their lives waiting for mother Earth to wake from her Winter sleep! Freeze the body and you freeze the brain. I am of those who love flowers better than snowflakes.
Source: Gutenberg

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