Under the Lilacs

by Louisa May Alcott

  CHAPTER XV

  BEN'S RIDE

  Great was the mourning for Sancho, because his talents and virtues madehim universally admired and beloved. Miss Celia advertised, Thornyoffered rewards, and even surly Pat kept a sharp look-out for poodledogs when he went to market; but no Sancho or any trace of him appeared.Ben was inconsolable, and sternly said it served Bab right when thedogwood poison affected both face and hands. Poor Bab thought so, too,and dared ask no sympathy from him, though Thorny eagerly prescribedplantain leaves, and Betty kept her supplied with an endless successionof them steeped in cream and pitying tears. This treatment was sosuccessful that the patient soon took her place in society as well asever, but for Ben's affliction there was no cure, and the boy reallysuffered in his spirits.

  "I don't think it's fair that I should have so much trouble,--firstlosing father and then Sanch. If it wasn't for Lita and Miss Celia, Idon't believe I could stand it," he said, one day, in a fit of despair,about a week after the sad event.

  "Oh, come now, don't give up so, old fellow. We'll find him if he salive, and if he isn't I'll try and get you another as good," answeredThorny, with a friendly slap on the shoulder, as Ben sat disconsolatelyamong the beans he had been hoeing.

  "As if there ever could be another half as good!" cried Ben, indignantat the idea; "or as if I'd ever try to fill his place with the best andbiggest dog that ever wagged a tail! No, sir, there's only one Sanch inall the world, and if I can't have him I'll never have a dog again."

  "Try some other sort of pet, then. You may have any of mine you like.Have the peacocks; do now," urged Thorny, full of boyish sympathy andgood-will.

  "They are dreadful pretty, but I don't seem to care about em, thankyou," replied the mourner.

  "Have the rabbits, all of them," which was a handsome offer on Thorny'spart, for there were a dozen at least.

  "They don't love a fellow as a dog does; all they care for is stuff toeat and dirt to burrow in. I'm sick of rabbits." And well he might be,for he had had the charge of them ever since they came, and any boy whohas ever kept bunnies knows what a care they are.

  "So am I! Guess we'll have an auction and sell out. Would Jack be acomfort to you? If he will, you may have him. I'm so well now, I canwalk, or ride anything," added Thorny, in a burst of generosity.

  "Jack couldn't be with me always, as Sanch was, and I couldn't keep himif I had him."

  Ben tried to be grateful, but nothing short of Lita would have healedhis wounded heart, and she was not Thorny's to give, or he wouldprobably have offered her to his afflicted friend.

  "Well, no, you couldn't take Jack to bed with you, or keep him up inyour room, and I'm afraid he Would never learn to do any thing clever. Ido wish I had something you wanted, I'd so love to give it to you."

  He spoke so heartily and was so kind that Ben looked up, feeling that hehad given him one of the sweetest things in the world--friendship; hewanted to tell him so, but did not know how to do it, so caught up hishoe and fell to work, saying, in a tone Thorny understood better thanwords,--

  "You are real good to me-never mind, I won't worry about it; only itseems extra hard coming so soon after the other--"

  He stopped there, and a bright drop fell on the bean leaves, to shinelike dew till Ben saw clearly enough to bury it out of sight in a greatflurry.

  "By Jove! I'll find that dog, if he is out of the ground. Keep yourspirits up, my lad, and we'll have the dear old fellow back yet."

  With which cheering prophecy Thorny went off to rack his brains as towhat could be done about the matter.

  Half an hour afterward, the sound of a hand-organ in the avenue rousedhim from the brown study into which he had fallen as he lay on the newlymown grass of the lawn. Peeping over the wall, Thorny reconnoitred, and,finding the organ a good one, the man a pleasant-faced Italian, and themonkey a lively animal, he ordered them all in, as a delicate attentionto Ben, for music and monkey together might suggest soothing memories ofthe past, and so be a comfort.

  In they came by way of the Lodge, escorted by Bab and Betty, full ofglee, for hand-organs were rare in those parts, and the childrendelighted in them. Smiling till his white teeth shone and his black eyessparkled, the man played away while the monkey made his pathetic littlebows, and picked up the pennies Thorny threw him.

  "It is warm, and you look tired. Sit down and I'll get you somedinner," said the young master, pointing to the seat which now stoodnear the great gate.

  With thanks in broken English the man gladly obeyed, and Ben begged tobe allowed to make Jacko equally comfortable, explaining that he knewall about monkeys and what they liked. So the poor thing was freed fromhis cocked hat and uniform, fed with bread and milk, and allowed to curlhimself up in the cool grass for a nap, looking so like a tired littieold man in a fur coat that the children were never weary of watchinghim.

  Meantime, Miss Celia had come out, and was talking Italian to Giacomo ina way that delighted his homesick heart. She had been to Naples, andcould understand his longing for the lovely city of his birth, so theyhad a little chat in the language which is all Music, and the goodfellow was so grateful that he played for the children to dance tillthey were glad to stop, lingering afterward as if he hated to set outagain upon his lonely, dusty walk.

  "I'd rather like to tramp round with him for a week or so. Could makeenough to live on as easy as not, if I only I had Sanch to show off,"said Ben, as he was coaxing Jacko into the suit which he detested. "Yougo wid me, yes?" asked the man, nodding and smiling, well pleased at theprospect of company, for his quick eye and what the boys let fall intheir talk showed him that Ben was not one of them.

  "If I had my dog I'd love to," and with sad eagerness Ben told the taleof his loss, for the thought of it was never long out of his mind.

  "I tink I see droll dog like he, way off in New York. He do leetle trickwid letter, and dance, and go on he head, and many tings to make laugh,"said the man, when he had listened to a list of Sanch's beauties andaccomplishments.

  "Who had him?" asked Thorny, full of interest at once.

  "A man I not know. Cross fellow what beat him when he do letters bad."

  "Did he spell his name?" cried Ben, breathlessly.

  "No; that for why man beat him. He name Generale, and he go spellSancho all times, and cry when whip fall on him. Ha! yes! that name trueone; not Generale?" and the man nodded, waved his hands, and showed histeeth, almost as much excited as the boys.

  "It's Sanch! let's go and get him now, right off! cried Ben, in a feverto be gone.

  "A hundred miles away, and no clue but this man's story? We must wait alittle, Ben, and be sure before we set out," said Miss Celia, ready todo almost any thing, but not so certain as the boys. "What sort of adog was it? A large, curly, white poodle, with a queer tail?" she askedof Giacomo.

  "No, Signorina mia, he no curly, no wite; he black, smooth dog, litteltail, small, so;" and the man held up one brown finger with a gesturewhich suggested a short, wagging tail.

  "There, you see how mistaken we were. Dogs are often named Sancho,especially Spanish poodles; for the original Sancho was a Spaniard, youknow. This dog is not ours, and I'm so sorry."

  The boys' faces had fallen dismally as their hope was destroyed; but Benwould not give up. For him there was and could be only one Sancho in theworld, and his quick wits suggested an explanation which no one elsethought of.

  "It may be my dog,--they color 'em as we used to paint over trickhorses. I told you he was a valuable chap, and those that stole him hidehim that way, else he'd be no use, don't you see? because we'd knowhim."

  "But the black dog had no tail," began Thorny, longing to be convinced,but still doubtful.

  Ben shivered as if the mere thought hurt him, as he said, in a grimtone,--

  "They might have cut Sanch's off."

  "Oh, no! no! they mustn't,--they wouldn't! How Could any one be sowicked?" cried Bab and Betty, horrified at the suggestion.

  "You don't know what such fellows wo
uld do to make all safe, so theycould use a dog to earn their living for 'em," said Ben, with mysterioussignificance, quite forgetting in his wrath that he had just proposed toget his own living in that way himself.

  "He no your dog? Sorry I not find him for you. Addio, signorina!Grazia, signor! Buon giorno, buon giorno!" and, kissing his hand, theItalian shouldered organ and monkey, ready to go.

  Miss Celia detained him long enough to give him her address, and beg himto let her know if he met poor Sanch in any of his wanderings; for suchitinerant showmen often cross each other's paths. Ben and Thorny walkedto the school-corner with him, getting more exact information about theblack dog and his owner, for they had no intention of giving it up sosoon.

  That very evening, Thorny wrote to a boy cousin in New York, giving allthe particulars of the case, and begging him to hunt up the man,investigate the dog, and see that the police made sure that every thingwas right. Much relieved by this performance, the boys waited anxiouslyfor a reply, and when it came found little comfort in it. Cousin Horacehad done his duty like a man, but regretted that he could only report afailure. The owner of the black poodle was a suspicious character, buttold a straight story, how he had bought the dog from a stranger, andexhibited him with success till he was stolen. Knew nothing of hishistory, and was very sorry to lose him, for he was a remarkably cleverbeast.

  "I told my dog-man to look about for him, but he says he has probablybeen killed, with ever so many more; so there is an end of it, and Icall it a mean shame."

  "Good for Horace! I told you he'd do it up thoroughly and see the endof it," said Thorny, as he read that paragraph in the deeply interestingletter.

  "May be the end of that dog, but not of mine. I'll bet he ran away; andif it was Sanch, he'll come home. You see if he doesn't!" cried Ben,refusing to believe that all was over.

  "A hundred wiles off? Oh, he couldn't find you without help, smart as heis," answered Thorny, incredulously.

  Ben looked discouraged, but Miss Celia cheered him up again by saying,--

  "Yes, he could. My father had a friend who left a little dog in Paris;and the creature found her in Milan, and died of fatigue next day. Thatwas very wonderful, but true; and I've no doubt that if Sanch is alivehe will come home. Let us hope so, and be happy, while we wait."

  "We will!" said the boys; and day after day looked for the wanderer'sreturn, kept a bone ready in the old place if he should arrive at night,and shook his mat to keep it soft for his weary bones when he came. Butweeks passed, and still no Sanch.

  Something else happened, however, so absorbing that he was almostforgotten for a time; and Ben found a way to repay a part of all he owedhis best friend.

  Miss Celia went off for a ride one afternoon, and an hour afterward, asBen sat in the porch reading, Lita dashed into the yard with the reinsdangling about her legs, the saddle turned round, and one side coveredwith black mud, showing that she had been down. For a minute, Ben'sheart stood still; then he flung away his book, ran to the horse, andsaw at once by her heaving flanks, dilated nostrils, and wet coat, thatshe must have come a long way and at full speed.

  "She has had a fall, but isn't hurt or frightened," thought the boy, asthe pretty creature rubbed her nose against his shoulder, pawed theground, and champed her bit, as if she tried to tell him all about thedisaster, whatever it was.

  "Lita, where's Miss Celia?" he asked, looking straight into theintelligent eyes, which were troubled but not wild.

  Lita threw up her head, and neighed loud and clear, as if she called hermistress; and, turning, would have gone again if Ben had not caught thereins and held her.

  "All right, we'll find her;" and, pulling off the broken saddle, kickingaway his shoes, and ramming his hat firmly on, Ben was up like a flash,tingling all over with a sense of power as he felt the bare back betweenhis knees, and caught the roll of Lita's eye as she looked round with anair of satisfaction.

  "Hi, there! Mrs. Moss! Something has happened to Miss Celia, and I'mgoing to find her. Thorny is asleep; tell him easy, and I'll come backas soon as I can!"

  Then, giving Lita her head, he was off before the startled woman hadtime to do more than wring her hands and cry out,--

  "Go for the Squire! Oh, what shall we do?"

  As if she knew exactly what was wanted of her, Lita went back the wayshe had come, as Ben could see by the fresh, irregular tracks that cutup the road where she had galloped for help. For a mile or more theywent, then she paused at a pair of bars, which were let down to allowthe carts to pass into the wide hay-fields beyond. On she went again,cantering across the new-mown turf toward a brook, across which she hadevidently taken a leap before; for, on the further side, at a placewhere cattle went to drink, the mud showed signs of a fall.

  "You were a fool to try there; but where is Miss Celia?" said Ben, whotalked to animals as if they were people, and was understood much betterthan any one not used to their companionship would imagine.

  Now Lita seemed at a loss, and put her head down, as if she expected tofind her mistress where she had left her, somewhere on the ground. Bencalled, but there was no answer; and he rode slowly along thebrook-side, looking far and wide with anxious eyes.

  "May be she wasn't hurt, and has gone to that house to wait," thoughtthe boy, pausing for a last survey of the great, sunny field, which hadno place of shelter in it but one rock on the other side of the littlestream. As his eye wandered over it, something dark seemed to blow outfrom behind it, as if the wind played in the folds of a shirt, or ahuman limb moved. Away went Lita, and in a moment Ben had found MissCelia, lying in the shadow of the rock, so white and motionless, hefeared that she was dead. He leaped down, touched her, spoke to her;and, receiving no answer, rushed away to bring a little water in hisleaky hat to sprinkle in her face, as he had seen them do when any ofthe riders got a fall in the circus, or fainted from exhaustion afterthey left the ring, where "do or die" was the motto all adopted.

  In a minute, the blue eyes opened, and she recognized the anxious facebending over her, saying faintly, as she touched it,--

  "My good little Ben, I knew you'd find me,--I sent Lita for you,--I'm so hurt, I couldn't come."

  "Oh, where? What shall I do? Had I better run up to the house?" askedBen, overjoyed to hear her speak, but much dismayed by her seeminghelplessness, for he had seen bad falls, and had them, too.

  "I feel bruised all over, and my arm is broken, I'm afraid. Lita triednot to hurt me. She slipped, and we went down. I came here into theshade, and the pain made me faint, I suppose. Call somebody, and get mehome."

  Then she shut her eyes, and looked so white that Ben hurried away, andburst upon old Mrs. Paine, placidly knitting at the end door, sosuddenly that, as she afterward said, "It sca't her like a clap o'thunder."

  "Ain't a man nowheres around. All down in the big medder gettin' inhay," was her reply to Ben's breathless demand for "everybody to comeand see to Miss Celia."

  He turned to mount, for he had flung himself off before Lita stopped,but the old lady caught his jacket, and asked half a dozen questions ina breath.

  "Who's your folks? What's broke? How'd she fall? Where is she? Whydidn't she come right here? Is it a sunstroke?"

  As fast as words could tumble out of his mouth, Ben answered, and thentried to free himself; but the old lady held on, while she gave herdirections, expressed her sympathy, and offered her hospitality withincoherent warmth.

  "Sakes alive! poor dear! Fetch her right in. Liddy, get out thecamphire; and, Melissy, you haul down a bed to lay her on. Falls isdretful uncert'in things; shouldn't wonder if her back was broke.Father's down yender, and he and Bijah will see to her. You go call 'em,and I'll blow the horn to start 'em up. Tell her we'd be pleased to seeher, and it won't make a mite of trouble."

  Ben heard no more, fur as Mrs. Paine turned to take down the tin horn hewas up and away.

  Several long and dismal toots sent Lita galloping through the grassypath as the sound of the trumpet excites a war-horse, and "fath
er andBijah," alarmed by the signal at that hour, leaned on their rakes tosurvey with wonder the distracted-looking little horseman approachinglike a whirlwind.

  "Guess likely grandpa's had 'nother stroke. Told 'em to send over soon's ever it come," said the farmer, calmly.

  "Shouldn't wonder ef suthing was afire some'r's," conjectured the hiredman, surveying the horizon for a cloud of smoke.

  Instead of advancing to meet the messenger, both stood like statues inblue overalls and red flannel shirts, till the boy arrived and told histale.

  "Sho, that's bad," said the farmer, anxiously.

  "That brook always was the darndest place," added Bijah; then both menbestirred themselves helpfully, the former hurrying to Miss Cella whilethe latter brought up the cart and made a bed of hay to lay her on.

  "Now then, boy, you go for the doctor. My own folks will see to thelady, and she'd better keep quiet up yender till we see what the matteris," said the farmer, when the pale girl was lifted in as carefully asfour strong arms could do it. "Hold on," he added, as Ben made one leapto Lita's back. "You'll have to go to Berryville. Dr. Mills is a masterhand for broken bones and old Dr. Babcock ain't. 'Tisn't but about threemiles from here to his house, and you'll fetch him 'fore there's anyharm done waitin'."

  "Don't kill Lita," called Miss Celia from the cart, as it began to move.

  But Ben did not hear her, for he was off across the fields, riding as iflife and death depended upon his speed.

  "That boy will break his neck," said Mr. Paine, standing still to watchhorse and rider go over the wall as if bent on instant destruction.

  "No fear for Ben, he can ride any thing, and Lita was trained to leap,"answered Miss Celia, falling back on the hay with a groan, for she hadinvoluntarily raised her head to see her little squire dash away ingallant style.

  "I should hope so; regular jockey, that boy. Never see any thing like itout of a race-ground," and Farmer Paine strode on, still following withhis eye the figures that went thundering over the bridge, up the hill,out of sight, leaving a cloud of cloud of dust behind.

  Now that his mistress was safe, Ben enjoyed that wild ride mightily, andso did the bay mare; for Lita had good blood in her, and proved it thatday by doing her three miles in a wonderfully short time. People joggingalong in wagons and country carry-alls stared amazed as the recklesspair went by. Women, placidly doing their afternoon sewing at the frontwindows, dropped their needles to run out with exclamations of alarm,sure some one was being run away with; children playing by the roadsidescattered like chickens before a hawk, as Ben passed with a warningwhoop, and baby-carriages were scrambled into door-yards with perilousrapidity at his approach.

  But when he clattered into town, intense interest was felt in thisbarefooted boy on the foaming steed, and a dozen voices asked, "Who'skilled?" as he pulled up at the doctor's gate.

  "Jest drove off that way; Mrs. Flynn's baby's in a fit," cried a stoutlady from the piazza, never ceasing to rock, though several passers-bypaused to hear the news, for she was a doctor's wife, and used to thearrival of excited messengers from all quarters at all hours of the dayand night.

  Deigning no reply to any one, Ben rode away, wishing he could leap ayawning gulf, scale a precipice, or ford a raging torrent, to prove hisdevotion to Miss Celia, and his skill in horsemanship. But no dangersbeset his path, and he found the doctor pausing to water his tired horseat the very trough where Bab and Sancho had been discovered on thatever-memorable day. The story was quickly told, and, promising to bethere as soon as possible, Dr. Mills drove on to relieve baby Flynn'sinner man, a little disturbed by a bit of soap and several buttons, uponwhich he had privately lunched while his mamma was busy at the wash-tub.

  Ben thanked his stars, as he had already done more than once, that heknew how to take care of a horse; for he delayed by the watering-placelong enough to wash out Lita's mouth with a handful of wet grass, to lether have one swallow to clear her dusty throat, and then went slowlyback over the breezy hills, patting and praising the good creature forher intelligence and speed. She knew well enough that she had been aclever little mare, and tossed her head, arched her glossy neck, andambled daintily along, as conscious and coquettish as a pretty woman,looking round at her admiring rider to return his compliments by glanceof affection, and caressing sniffs of a velvet nose at his bare feet.

  Miss Celia had been laid comfortably in bed by the farmer's wife anddaughter; and, when the doctor arrived, bore the setting of her armbravely. No other serious damage appeared, and bruises soon heal, so Benwas sent home to comfort Thorny with a good report, and ask the Squireto drive up in his big carry-all for her the next day, if she was ableto be moved.

  Mrs. Moss had been wise enough to say nothing, but quietly made whatpreparations she could, and waited for tidings. Bab and Betty were awayberrying, so no one had alarmed Thorny, and he had his afternoon nap inpeace,--an unusually long one, owing to the stillness which prevailedin the absence of the children; and when he awoke he lay reading for awhile before he began to wonder where every one was. Lounging out tosee, he found Ben and Lita reposing side by side on the fresh straw inthe loose box, which had been made for her in the coach-house. By thepails, sponges and curry-combs lying about, it was evident that she hadbeen refreshed by a careful washing and rubbing down, and my lady wasnow luxuriously resting after her labors, with her devoted groom halfasleep close by.

  "Well, of all queer boys you are the queerest, to spend this hotafternoon fussing over Lita, just for the fun of it!" cried Thorny,looking in at them with much amusement.

  "If you knew what we'd been doing, you'd think I ought to fuss over her,and both of us had a right to rest!" answered Ben, rousing up as brightas a button; for he longed to tell his thrilling tale, and had withdifficulty been restrained from bursting in on Thorny as soon as hearrived.

  He made short work of the story, but was quite satisfied with thesensation it produced; for his listener was startled, relieved, excitedand charmed, in such rapid succession, that he was obliged to sit uponthe meal-chest and get his breath before he Could exclaim, with anemphatic demonstration of his heels against the bin,--

  "Ben Brown, I'll never forget what you've done for Celia this day, orsay 'bow-legs' again as long as I live."

  "George! I felt as if I had six legs when we were going the pace. Wewere all one piece, and had a jolly spin, didn't we, my beauty?" and Benchuckled as he took Lita's head in his lap, while she answered with agusty sigh that nearly blew him away.

  "Like the fellow that brought the good news from Ghent to Aix," saidThorny, surveying the recumbent pair with great admiration.

  "What follow?" asked Ben, wondering if he didn't mean Sheridan, of whoseride he had heard.

  "Don't you know that piece? I spoke it at school. Give it to you now;see if it isn't a rouser."

  And, glad to find a vent from his excitement, Thorny mounted themeal-chest, to thunder out that stirring ballad with such spirit thatLita pricked up her ears and Ben gave a shrill "Hooray!" as the lastverse ended.

  "And all I remember is friends flocking round, As I sat with his head 'twixt my knees on the ground, And no voice but was praising this Roland of mine, As I poured down his throat our last measure of wine, Which (the burgesses voted by common consent) Was no more than his due who brought good news from Ghent."