themornings, jaded, worn, and muddy, avoiding the roads, and creeping alongby ditches and hedgerows. When I went to meet him, he threw himself atmy feet, as much as to say, "Thrash away, and be quick about it." Thiswent on for weeks, though I did not know then what mischief "the twadogs" had been brewing, although ugly rumours began to be heard in allthe countryside about murdered sheep and bleeding lambs; but my eyeswere opened, and opened with a vengeance, when nineteen of the sheep onmy father's hill-side were made bleeding lumps of clay in one short"simmer nicht"; and had Tyro been tried for his life, he could scarcelyhave proved an _alibi_, and, moreover, his pretty breast was like unto arobin's, and his gauntlets steeped in gore. Dire was the punishmentthat fell on Tyro's back for thus forsaking the path of virtue for asheep-walk; and for two or three years, until, like the "Rose o'Anandale," he--
"Left his Highland home And wandered forth with me,"
he was condemned to the chain.
He now became really a watch-dog, and a right good one he proved.
The chain was of course slipped at night when his real duties weresupposed to commence. Gipsies--tinklers we call them--were just then anepidemic in our part of the country; and our hen-roosts were in anespecial manner laid under blackmail. One or two of those samelong-legged gentry got a lesson from Tyro they did not speedily forget.I have seldom seen a dog that could knock down a man with lessunnecessary violence. So surely as any one laid a hand on his master,even in mimic assault, he was laid prone on his back, and that, too, ina thoroughly business-like fashion; and violence was only offered if thelowly-laid made an attempt to get up till out of arrest.
I never had a dog of a more affectionate disposition than mydead-and-gone friend Tyro. By sea and land, of course _I_ was hisespecial charge; but that did not prevent him from joyously recognising"friends he had not seen for years." Like his human shipmates, he tooused to look out for land, and he was generally the first to make knownthe welcome news, by jumping on the bulwarks, snuffing the air, andgiving one long loud bark, which was slightly hysterical, as if therewere a big lump in his throat somewhere.
I should go on the principle of _de mortuis nil nisi bonum_; but I ambound to speak of Tyro's faults as well as his virtues. Reader, he hada temper--never once shown to woman or child, but often, when he fanciedhis _casus belli_ just, to man, and once or twice to his master. Why,one night, in my absence, he turned my servant out, and took forciblepossession of my bed. It _was_ hard, although I _had_ stayed out ratherlate; but only by killing him could I have dislodged him, so for severalreasons I preferred a night on the sofa, and next morning I reasoned thematter with him.
During our country life, Tyro took good care I should move as little aspossible without him, and consequently dubbed himself knight-companionof my rambles over green field and heathy mountain, and these were notfew. We often extended our excursions until the stars shone over us,then we made our lodging on the cold ground, Tyro's duties being thoseof watch and pillow. Often though, on awakening in the morning, I foundmy head among the heather, and my pillow sitting comfortably by my sidepanting, generally with a fine hare between its paws, for it had been"up in the morning airly" and "o'er the hills and far awa'," long beforeI knew myself from a stone.
Tyro's country life ended when his master went to study medicine. Oneday I was surprised to find him sitting on the seat beside me. Theattendant was about to remove him.
"Let alone the poor dog," said Professor L. "I am certain he willlisten more quietly than any one here." Then after the lecture, "Thankyou, doggie; you have taught my students a lesson." That naughty chainprevented a repetition of the offence; but how exuberant he was to meetme at evening any one may guess. Till next morning he was my secondshadow. More than once, too, he has been a rather too faithful ally inthe many silly escapades into which youth and spirits lead the medicalstudent. His use was to cover a retreat, and only once did he floor atoo-obtrusive Bobby; and once he _saved me from an ugly death_.
It was Hogmanay--the last night of the year--and we had been merry. We,a jolly party of students, had elected to sing in the New Year. We didso, and had been very happy, while, as Burns hath it, Tyro--
"For vera joy had barkit wi' us."
Ringing out from every corner of the city, like cocks with troubledminds, came the musical voices of night-watchmen, bawling "half-pastone," as we left the streets, and proceeded towards our home in thesuburbs. It was a goodly night, moon and stars, and all that sort ofthing, which tempted me to set out on a journey of ten miles into thecountry, in order to be "first foot" to some relations that lived there.The road was crisp with frost, and walking pleasant enough, so that wewere in one hour nearly half-way. About here was a bridge crossing alittle rocky ravine, with a babbling stream some sixty feet below. Onthe low stone parapet of this bridge, like the reckless fool I was, Istretched myself at full length, and, unintentionally, fell fast asleep.How nearly that sleep had been my last! Two hours afterwards I awoke,and naturally my eyes sought the last thing they had dwelt upon, themoon; she had declined westward, and in turning round I was justtoppling over when I was sharply pulled backwards toward the road. Herewas Tyro with his two paws pressed firmly against the parapet, and partof my coat in his mouth, while with flashing teeth he growled as I neverbefore had heard him. His anger, however, was changed into the mostexuberant joy, when I alighted safely on the road, shuddering at thenarrow escape I had just made. At the suggestion of Tyro, we dancedround each other, for five minutes at least, in mutual joy, by whichtime we were warm enough to finish our journey, and be "first foot" toour friends in the morning.
When Tyro left home with me to begin a seafaring life, he put his wholeheart and soul into the business. There was more than one dog in theship, but his drawing-room manners and knowledge of "sentry-go" made himsaloon dog _par excellence_.
His first voyage was to the Polar regions, and his duty the protectionby night of the cabin stores, including the spirit room. This duty hezealously performed; in fact, Master Tyro would have cheerfullyundertaken to take charge of the whole ship, and done his best to repelboarders, if the occasion had demanded it.
A sailor's life was now for a time the lot of Tyro. I cannot, however,say he was perfectly happy; no dog on board ship is. He missed the widemoors and the heathy hills, and I'm sure, like his master, he was alwaysglad to go on shore again.
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Poor Tyro got old; and so I had to go to sea without him. Then this dogattached himself to my dear mother. When I returned home again, she wasgone...
Strange to say, Tyro, who during my poor mother's illness had never lefther room, refused food for days after her death.
He got thin, and dropsy set in.
With my _own_ hand, I tapped him no less than fifteen times, removingnever less than one gallon and three quarters of water. The firstoperation was a terrible undertaking, owing to the dog making suchfierce resistance; but afterwards, when he began to understand theimmense relief it afforded him, he used to submit without even a sigh,allowing himself to be strapped down without a murmur, and when theoperation (excepting the stab of the trocar, there is little or no pain)was over, he would give himself a shake, then lick the hands of all theassistants--generally four--and present a grateful paw to each; then hehad his dinner, and next day was actually fit to run down a rabbit orhare.
Thinner and weaker, weaker and thinner, month by month, and still Icould not, as some advised, "put him out of pain;" he had once saved mylife, and I did not feel up to the mark in Red Indianism. And so theend drew nigh.
The saddest thing about it was this: the dog had the idea (knowinglittle of the mystery of death) that I could make him well; and at last,when he could no longer walk, he used to crawl to meet me on my morningvisit, and gaze in my face with his poor imploring eyes, and my answer(_well_ he knew what I said) was always, "Tyro, doggie, you'll be betterthe morn (to-morrow), boy." And when one day I cou
ld stand it nolonger, and rained tears on my old friend's head, he crept back to hisbed, and that same forenoon he was dead.
Poor old friend Tyro. Though many long years have fled since then, Ican still afford a sigh to his memory.
On a "dewy simmer's gloaming" my Tyro's coffin was laid beneath the sod,within the walls of a noble old Highland ruin. There is no stone tomark where he lies, but I know the spot, and I always think the _gowanblinks_ bonniest and the grass grows greenest there.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.
THE DAYS WHEN WE WENT CRUISING.
"O'er the glad waters of the dark-blue sea, Our thoughts as boundless and ourselves as free."
Byron.
When cruising round Africa some years ago in a saucy wee gunboat, thatshall be nameless, I was not
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