The wind is blowing hard from the northeast now . '' His uncle walked away , leaving the boy white and miserable in the yard . He looked at Don , who sat on his haunches and returned his gaze frankly and open-heartedly . He did not look like a guilty dog . Could it be possible that he had really worried those sheep ? `` I 'll never believe it of you , old fellow ! '' Curtis said , as he led the dog into a corner of the carriage house and tied him up there . Then he flung himself down on a pile of sacks beside him and buried his face in Don 's curly black fur . The boy felt sullen , rebellious and wretched . He lay there until dark , thinking his own bitter thoughts and listening to the rapidly increasing gale . Finally he got up and flung off after the calves , with Don 's melancholy howls at finding himself deserted ringing in his ears . He 'll be quiet enough tomorrow night , thought Curtis wretchedly , as he went upstairs to bed after housing the calves . For a long while he lay awake , but finally dropped into a heavy slumber which lasted until his aunt called him for milking . The wind was blowing more furiously than ever . Up over the fields came the roar and crash of the surges on the outside shore . The Harbour to the east of Bayside was rough and stormy . They were just rising from breakfast when Will Barrie burst into the kitchen . `` The Amy Reade is ashore on Gleeson 's rocks ! '' he shouted . `` Struck there at daylight this morning !
Come XXXXX , Curt ! ''
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