CHAPTER II. The Fetish
From the night of the robbery, Lad's high position at the Place wasassured.
Even in the months of ganglingly leggy awkwardness which generallyseparate furry puppyhood from dignified collie maturity, he gave surepromise of his quality. He was such a dog as is found perhaps once in ageneration; the super-collie that neither knows nor needs such thingsas whip and chain; and that learns the Law with bewildering swiftness.A dog with a brain and a mighty heart, as well as an endless fund ofloveableness and of gay courage.
Month by month, the youngster developed into a massive giant; hisorange-mahogany coat a miracle of thickness and length, his deep chestpromising power as well as wolflike grace. His mind and his oddly humantraits developed as fast as did his body.
After the first month or so he received privileges never to be accordedto any other of the Place's dogs in Lad's lifetime. He slept at nightunder the music-room piano, in the "cave" that was his delight. Atmealtimes he was even admitted into the sacred dining-room, where helay on the floor at the Master's left hand. He had the run of thehouse, as fully as any human.
It was when Lad was eighteen months old that the mad-dog scare sweptHampton village; and reached its crawly tentacles out across the laketo the mile-distant Place.
Down the village street, one day, trotted an enormous black mongrel;full in the center of the roadway. The mongrel's heavy head was low,and lolled from side to side with each lurching stride of the big body.The eyes were bloodshot. From the mouth and the hanging dewlaps, flecksof foam dropped now and then to the ground.
The big mongrel was sick of mind and of body. He craved only to get outof that abode of men and to find solitude in the forests and hillsbeyond the village.
For this is the considerate way of dogs; and of cats as well. When diresickness smites them, they do not hang about, craving sympathy andcalling for endless attention. All they want is to get out of theway,--well out of the way, into the woods and swamps and mountains;where they may wrestle with their life-or-death problem in their ownprimitive manner; and where, if need be, they may die alone andpeacefully, without troubling anyone else.
Especially is this true with dogs. If their malady is likely to affectthe brain and to turn them savage, they make every possible attempt toescape from home and to be as far away from their masters as may be,before the crisis shall goad them into attacking those they love.
And, when some such suffering beast is seen, on his way to solitude, wehumans prove our humanity by raising the idiotic bellow of "Mad dog!"and by chasing and torturing the victim. All this, despite proof thatnot one sick dog in a thousand, thus assailed, has any disease which iseven remotely akin to rabies.
Next to vivisection, no crime against helpless animals is so needlesslyand foolishly cruel as the average mad-dog chase.
Which is a digression; but which may or may not enable you to keep yourhead, next time a mad-dog scare sweeps your own neighborhood.
Down the middle of the dusty street trotted the sick mongrel. Fiveminutes earlier, he had escaped from the damp cellar in which his ownerhad imprisoned him when first he fell ill. And now, his one purpose wasto leave the village behind him and to gain the leafy refuge of thefoothills beyond.
Out from a door-yard, flashed a bumptious little fox terrier. Into theroadway he bounded; intent on challenging the bigger animal.
He barked ferociously; then danced in front of the invalid; yapping andsnapping up at the hanging head. The big mongrel, in agony, snarled andmade a lunge at his irritatingly dancing tormentor. His teeth duggrazingly into the terrier's withers; and, with an impatient toss, heflung the little beast to one side. Then he continued his interruptedflight; sick wrath beginning to encompass his reeling brain, at theannoyance he had encountered.
The yell of the slightly hurt terrier brought people to their doors.The sound disturbed a half-breed spaniel from his doze in the dust, andsent him out to continue the harrying his injured terrier chum hadbegun.
The spaniel flew at the black dog; nipping at the plodding forepaws.The mongrel raged; as might some painfully sick human who is pesteredwhen he asks only to be let alone. His dull apathy gave place to sullenanger. He bit growlingly at the spaniel, throwing himself to one sidein pursuit of the elusive foe. And he snapped with equal rage at anIrish terrier that had come out to add to the turmoil.
By this time, a score of people were dancing up and down inside theirdoor-yard fences, squalling "Mad dog!" and flinging at the black bruteany missile they could lay hand to.
A broken flower-pot cut the invalid's nose. A stone rebounded from hisribs. The raucous human yells completed the work the first dog hadstarted. From a mere sufferer, the black mongrel had changed into aperil.
The Mistress had motored over to the Hampton post-office, thatafternoon, to mail some letters. Lad, as usual, had gone with her. Shehad left him in the car, while she went into the post-office.
Lad lay there, in snug contentment, on the car's front seat; awaitingthe return of his deity and keeping a watchful eye on anyone whochanced to loiter near the machine. Presently, he sat up. Leaning out,from one side of the seat, he stared down the hot roadway, in adirection whence a babel of highly exciting sounds began to issue.
Apparently, beyond that kick-up of dust, a furlong below, all sorts ofinteresting things were happening. Lad's soft eyes took on a glint ofeager curiosity; and he sniffed the still air for further clues as tothe nature of the fun. A number of humans,--to judge by theracket,--were shouting and screaming; and the well-understood word,"dog," formed a large part of their clamor. Also, there were real dogsmixed up in the fracas; and more than one of them had blood on him. Somuch the collie's uncanny senses of smell and of hearing told him.
Lad whimpered, far down in his throat. He had been left here to guardthis car. It was his duty to stay where he was, until the Mistressshould return. Yet, right behind him, there, a series of mightyentertaining things were happening,--things that he longed toinvestigate and to mix into. It was hard to do one's solemn duty aswatchdog, when so much of wild interest was astir! Not once did itoccur to Laddie to desert his post. But he could not forbear that lowwhimper and a glance of appeal toward the post-office.
And now, out of the smear of flying dust, loomed a lurching blackshape;--gigantic, terrible. It was coming straight toward the car;still almost in mid-road. Behind, less distinct, appeared running men.And a shot was fired. Somebody had run indoors for a pistol, beforejoining the chase. The same somebody, in the van of the pursuers, hadopened fire; and was in danger of doing far more damage to life thancould a dozen allegedly mad dogs.
Just then, out from the post-office, came the Mistress. Crossing thenarrow sidewalk, she neared the car. Lad stood up, wagging his plumedtail in welcome; his tiny white forepaws dancing a jig of eagerness onthe leather seat-cushion.
On reeled the black mongrel; crazed by noise and pain. His bleared eyescaught a flash of the Mistress's white dress, on the walk, fifteen feetin front of him and a yard or more to one side.
In a frame of mind when every newcomer was a probable tormenter, themongrel resolved to meet this white-clad foe, head-on. He swerved, witha stagger, from his bee-line of travel; growled hideously, and sprangfull at her.
The Mistress paused, for an instant, in the middle of the sidewalk, tofind out the reason for the sudden din that had assailed her ears asshe emerged from the post-office. In that brief moment, she caught themultiple-bellowed phrase of "Mad dog!" and saw the black brute chargingdown upon her.
There was no time to dart back into the shelter of the building or togain the lesser safety of the car. For the charging mongrel was notfive feet away.
The Mistress stood stock-still; holding her hands at a level with herthroat. She did not cry out; nor faint. That was not the Mistress'sway. Like Lad, she was thoroughbred in soul as well as in body. Andneither she nor her dog belonged to the breed of screamers. Through hermind, in that briefest fraction of a second whizzed the consolingthought:
"He's not mad, whatever else he is. A mad dog never swerves from hispath."
But if the Mistress remained moveless, Lad did not. Seeing her perileven more swiftly than did she, he made one lightning dive from hisperch on the car seat.
He did not leap at random. Lad's brain always worked more quickly thandid his lithe body; flyingly rapid as were that body's motions. As hegathered himself for the spring, his campaign was mapped out.
Down upon the charging beast swooped a furry whirlwind of burnishedmahogany-and-snow. Down it swooped with the whirring speed and unerringaim of an eagle. Sixty-odd pounds of sinewy weight smote the lungingmongrel, obliquely, on the left shoulder; knocking the great brute'slegs from under him and throwing him completely off his balance. Intothe dust crashed the two dogs; Lad on top. Before they struck ground,the collie's teeth had found their goal ire the side of the largerdog's throat; and every whalebone muscle in Lad's body was braced tohold his enemy down.
It was a clever hold. For the fall had thrown the mongrel on his side.And so long as Lad should be able to keep the great foaming head inthat sideways posture, the other dog could not get his feet under himagain. With his legs in their present position, he had no power to getup; but lay thrashing and snapping and snarling; and trying with allhis cramped might to free himself from the muscular grip that held himprostrate.
It was all over in something like two seconds. Up stormed the crowd;the pistol-wielder at its head. Three shots were fired at point-blankrange. By some miracle none of them harmed Lad; although one bulletscratched his foreleg on its way to the black giant's brain.
As soon as she could, the Mistress got herself and the loudly-praisedLad into the car and set off for home. Now that the peril was over, shefelt dizzy and ill. She had seen what it is not well to see. And thememory of it haunted her for many a night thereafter.
As for Lad, he was still atingle with excitement. The noisy praise ofthose babbling humans had bothered him; and he had been glad to escapeit. Lad hated to be mauled or talked to by strangers. But theMistress's tremulous squeeze and her shuddering whisper of "Oh, Laddie!LADDIE!" had shown she was proud of him. And this flattered anddelighted Lad, past all measure.
He had acted on impulse. But, from the Mistress's manner, he saw he hadmade a wonderful hit with her by what he had done. And his tail thumpedecstatically against the seat as he cuddled very close to her side.
At home, there was more praise and petting;--this time from both theMistress and the Master. And the Master bathed and patched theinsignificant bullet-scratch on the collie's foreleg. Altogether, itwas a gala afternoon for the young dog. And he loved it.
But, next morning, there was quite another phase of life awaiting him.Like most Great Moments, this exploit of Lad's was not on the freelist. And Trouble set in;--grim and sinister trouble.
Breakfast was over. The Mistress and the Master were taking theirwonted morning stroll through the grounds. Lad cantered along, ahead ofthem. The light bullet-scratch on his foreleg did not lame or annoyhim. He inspected everything of canine interest; sniffing expertinquiry at holes which might prove to be rabbit warrens; glaring intruculent threat up some tree which might or might not harbor animpudent squirrel; affecting to see objects of mysterious import inbush clumps; crouching in dramatic threat at a fat stag-beetle whichscuttled across his path.
There are an immense number of worth-while details for a very youngcollie, in even the most casual morning walk; especially if hisMistress and his Master chance to be under his escort. And Laddieneglected none of these things. If a troop of bears or a band ofIndians or a man-eating elephant were lurking anywhere in the shrubberyor behind tree-trunks, Lad was not going to fail in discovering androuting out such possible dangers to the peace of mind of his twoadored deities.
Scent and sight presently were attracted by a feeble fluttering under alow-limbed catalpa tree in whose branches a pair of hysterical robinswere screeching. Lad paused, his tulip ears at attention, his plumedtail swaying. Then he pushed his long muzzle through a clump of grassand emerged carrying a flapping and piping morsel between his mightyjaws. The birds, on the limb above, redoubled their frenzied chirping;and made little futile dashes at the collie's head.
Unheeding, Lad walked back to the Mistress and laid gently at her feetthe baby robin he had found. His keen teeth had not so much as ruffledits pinfeather plumage. Having done his share toward settling thebird's dilemma, Laddie stood back and watched in grave interest whilethe Mistress lifted the fluttering infant and put it back in the nestwhence it had fallen.
"That makes the fifth baby bird Laddie has brought to me in a month,"she commented, as she and the Master turned back toward the house. "Tosay nothing of two field mice and a broken-winged bat. He seems tothink I'll know what to do for them."
"I only hope he won't happen upon a newborn rattlesnake or copperheadand bring it to you for refuge," answered the Master. "I never sawanother dog, except a trained pointer or setter, that could handlebirds so tenderly. He--"
The bumping of a badly handled rowboat, against the dock, at the footof the lawn, a hundred yards below, checked his rambling words. Lad, atsudden attention, by his master's side, watched the boat's occupantclamber clumsily out of his scow; then stamp along the dock and up thelawn toward the house. The arrival was a long and lean and lank andlantern-jawed man with a set of the most fiery red whiskers ever seenoutside a musical comedy. The Master had seen him several times, in thevillage; and recognized him as Homer Wefers, the newly-appointedTownship Head Constable. The Mistress recognized him, too, as thevehement official whose volley of pistol-bullets had ended thesufferings of the black mongrel. She shivered, in reminiscence, as shelooked at him. The memory he evoked was not pleasant.
"Morning!" Wefers observed, curtly, as the Master, with Lad beside him,stepped forward to greet the scarlet-bearded guest. "I tried to getover here, last night. But I guess it's soon enough, today. Has heshowed any signs, yet?" He nodded inquiringly at the impassive Lad, ashe spoke.
"'Soon enough' for what?" queried the puzzled Master.
"And what sort of 'signs' are you talking about?"
"Soon enough to shoot that big brown collie of yours," explainedWefers, with businesslike briskness. "And I'm asking if he's showed anysigns of hydrophoby. Has he?"
"Are you speaking of Laddie?" asked the Mistress, in dismay; as theslower-witted Master, stared and gulped. "Why should he show any signsof hydrophobia? He--"
"If he hasn't, he will," rapped out the visitor. "Or he would, if hewasn't put out of the way. That's what I'm here for. But I kind ofhoped maybe you folks might have done it, yourselves. Can't be toocareful, you know. 'Specially--"
"What in blue blazes are you blithering about?" roared the Master,finding his voice and marshaling his startled wits. "Do you mean--"
"I mean," said Wefers, rebuking with a cold glare the Master'sdisrespectful manner, "I mean I'm here to shoot that big collie ofyours. He was bit by a mad dog, yesterday. So was three other dogs overin the village. I shot 'em all; before they had time to d'velopsymptoms and things; or bite anybody. One of 'em," he added,unctuously, "one of 'em b'longed to that little crippled Posthangergirl. She cried and begged, something pitiful, when I come for him. Butdooty is dooty. So I--"
"OH!"
The Mistress's horrified monosyllable broke in on the smug recital. Shecaught Lad protectingly by the ruff and stared in mute dread at thelanky and red-whiskered officer. Lad, reading her voice as always,divined this nasal-toned caller had said or done something to make herunhappy. His ruff bristled. One corner of his lip lifted in somethingwhich looked like a smile, but which was not. And, very far down in histhroat a growl was born.
But the Master stepped in front of his wife and his dog, and confrontedthe constable. Fighting for calmness, he asked:
"Do I understand that you shot those harmless little pups just becausea dog that was sick, and not rabid, happened to nip them? And thatyou've come across here with an idea of doing the same t
hing to Lad? Isthat it?"
"That's the idea," assented Wefers. "I said so, right off, as soon as Igot here. Only, you're wrong about the dog being 'sick.' He was mad.Had rabies. I'd ought to know. I--"
"How and why ought you to know?" demanded the Master, still battlingfor perfect calm, and succeeding none too well. "How ought you to know?Are you a veterinary? Have you ever made a study of dogs and of theirmaladies? Have you ever read up, carefully, on the subject of rabies?Have you read Eberhardt or Dr. Bennett or Skinner or any of a dozenother authorities on the disease? Have you consulted such eminent vetsas Hopper and Finch, for instance? If you have, you certainly must knowthat a dog, afflicted with genuine rabies, will no more turn out of hisway to bite anyone than a typhoid patient will jump out of bed to chasea doctor. I'm not saying that the bite of any sick animal (or of anysick human, for that matter) isn't more or less dangerous; unless it'scarefully washed out and painted with iodine. But that's no excuse togo around the country, shooting every dog that some sick mongrel hassnapped at. Put such dogs under observation, if necessary; and then--"
"You talk like a fool!" snorted Wefers, in lofty contempt. "I--"
"But I am going to keep you from acting like a fool," returned theMaster, his hard-held temper beginning to fray. "You say you've comeover here to shoot my dog. If ever anyone shoots Lad, I'll be the manto do it. And I'll have to have lots better reason for it than--"
"Go ahead, then!" vouchsafed the constable, fishing out a rusty servicepistol from his coat-tail pocket. "Go ahead and do it yourself, then;if you'd rather. It's all one to me, so long's it's done."
With sardonic politeness, he proffered the bulky weapon. The Mastercaught it from his hand and flung it a hundred feet away, into thecenter of a clump of lilacs.
"So much for the gun!" he blazed, advancing an the astounded Wefers."Now, unless you want to follow it--"
"Dear!" expostulated the Mistress, her sweet voice atremble.
"I'm an of'cer of the law!" blustered the offended constable; in thesame breath adding:
"And resisting an of'cer in the p'soot of his dooty is a misde--"
He checked himself, unconsciously turning to observe the odd actions ofLad.
As the Master had hurled the pistol far from him, the collie had spedin breakneck pursuit of it. Thus, always, did he delight to retrieveany object the Mistress or the Master might toss for his amusement. Itwas one of Laddie's favorite games, this fetching back of anythingthrown. The farther it might be flung and the more difficult itslanding place, the more zest to the sport.
This time, Lad was especially glad at the diversion. From the voices ofthese deities of his, Lad had gathered that the Master was furiouslyangry and that the Mistress was correspondingly unhappy. Also, that thelanky and red-bearded visitor was directly responsible for their stressof feeling. He had been eyeing alternately the Master and Wefers;tensely awaiting some overt act or some word of permission which shouldwarrant him in launching himself on the intruder.
And now, it seemed, the whole thing was a game;--a game wherein hehimself had been invited to play a merry and spectacular part.Joyously, he flew after the hurtling lump of steel and rubber.
The Master, facing the constable, did not see his pet's performance. Hetook up the thread of speech where Wefers dropped it.
"I don't know what the law does or doesn't empower you to do, in suchcases," he said, trying to force his way back to the earlier semblanceof calm. "But I doubt if it permits you to trespass on my land, withouta warrant or a court order of some sort; or to shoot a dog of mine.And, until I find out the law in the matter, you'll get off this placeand keep off of it. As for the dog, I'll be legally responsible forhim; and I'll guarantee he'll do no damage. So--"
Like Wefers, the Master came to an abrupt halt in his harangue.
For Lad was cantering gleefully toward him, carrying something dark andheavy between his jaws. Straight to the Master came Lad. Carefully, atthe Master's feet, he laid the rusty pistol.
Then, stepping back a pace, he looked up, eagerly, into the dumfoundedman's face, tail waving, dark eyes aglint with expectation. It had beenhard to locate the weapon, in all that tangle of lilac-stems. It hadbeen harder to carry the awkwardly heavy thing all the way back, in hismouth, without dropping it. But, if this was the plaything the Masterhad chosen, Lad was only too willing to continue the game.
A little choking sound made the collie shift his gaze suddenly to theMistress's troubled face. And the light of fun in his eyes wasquenched. The sight of her splendid dog retrieving so joyously theweapon designed for his death, was almost too much for the Mistress'sself-control.
The effect on the Master was different.
As Wefers made as though to jump forward and grab the pistol, theMaster said sharply:
"WATCH it, Laddie!"
Instantly, Lad was on the alert. The game, it seemed, had begun again,and along sterner lines. He was to guard this plaything;--particularlyfrom the bearded intruder who was snatching so avidly for it.
There was a sharp growl, a flash of fierce white teeth, a bound. One ofLad's snowy little forepaws was on the fallen pistol. And the rest ofLad's sinewy body was crouching above it, fangs aglint, eyes blazingwith hot menace.
Wefers jerked back his protruding arm, with extreme quickness; barelyavoiding a deep slash from the collie's shearing eye-teeth. And Lad,continued to "watch" the pistol.
The dog was having a lovely time. Seldom had he been happier. All goodcollies respond in semi-psychic fashion to the moods of their masters.And, to Lad, the very atmosphere about him was thrilling just now towaves of stark excitement. With the delightful vanity which is a partof the collie make-up, he realized that in some manner he himself was aprominent part of this excitement. And he reveled in it.
As Wefers pulled back his imperiled arm, the Mistress stepped forward,before the Master could speak or move.
"Even if it were true that he could get rabies by a bite from a rabiddog," said she, "and even if that dog, yesterday, were mad, thatwouldn't affect Laddie. For he didn't bite Laddie. He never got thechance. Lad pinned him to the ground. And while the mongrel wasstruggling to get up, you shot him. One of your bullets flicked Lad'sforeleg. But the mongrel's teeth never came within twelve inches ofhim. I can testify to that."
"He was fighting with a mad dog!" reiterated Wefers, fumingly. "I saw'em, myself. And when a dog is fighting, he's bound to get bit. I'm nothere to argue over it. I'm here to enforce the law of the sov'r'n Stateof Noo Jersey, County of P'saic, Township of--"
"But the law declares a prisoner innocent, till he's proved guilty,"urged the Mistress, restraining the Master, by a light hand on hisrestless arm. "And Lad's not been proved guilty. It isn't proved he wasbitten, at all. I can testify he wasn't. My husband washed the scratchand he can tell you it wasn't made by a bite. Any veterinary can tellyou the same thing, at a glance. We can establish the fact that Lad wasnot bitten. So even if the law lets you shoot a bitten dog,--which Idon't believe it does,--it doesn't empower you to shoot Lad. Why!" shewent on, shuddering slightly, "if Lad hadn't sprung between that bruteand myself, you'd probably be wanting to shoot ME! For I'd have beenbitten, terribly, if Lad hadn't--"
"I'm not here to listen to silly nonsense!" announced Wefer, glaring atthe watchful dog and back at the man and woman, "I came here in p'sootof my sworn dooty. I been balked and resisted by the two of you; and mypistol's been stole from me and a savage dog's been pract'c'lly sickedonto me. I'm an of'cer of the law. And I'm going to have the law onboth of you, for int'fering with me like you have. And I'm going to geta court order to shoot--"
"Then you haven't a court order or any other authority to shoot him?"the Master caught him up. "You admit that! You came over here, thinkingyou could bluff us into letting you do it, just because you happen towear a tin badge! I thought so. Now, my pink-whiskered friend, you'llstop shouting and making faces; and you'll listen to me, a minute. Youaren't the first officer who has exceeded his authority on the chancethat peopl
e will think he's acting within his rights. This time thebluff fails. With no warrant or summons or other legal power to backhim, a constable has no more right on my place than any negrotrespasser. What you may or may not be able to persuade some magistrateto do about this, I don't know. But, for the present, you'll clear out.Get that? I've warned you, in the presence of a witness. If you knowanything of law, you know that a landowner, after such warning, mayeject a trespasser by force. Go. And keep going. That's all."
Wefers sputtered wordlessly, from time to time, during the tirade. Butbefore its end, he fell silent and began to fidget. He himself was nonetoo well versed in the matter of his legal rights of intrusion. And,for the moment, he had no chance to execute his errand. Later, armedwith a magistrate's order, he could pay back with interest hishumiliation of this morning. In the meantime--
"Gimme my gun!" he demanded in grouchy surrender.
The Master stooped; picked up the pistol, and held it in both hands.Lad, all eagerness, stood dancingly waiting for him to throw it again.But it was not thrown. Instead, the Master "broke" the weapon; shakingthe greasy cartridges out on to his own palm and then transferring themto his pockets.
"In case of accidents," he explained, pleasantly, as he handed thepistol back to its scowling owner. "And if you'll stop at thepost-office, this afternoon, you'll find these shells in an envelope inyour letter-box. Now, chase; unless you want Lad to escort you to yourboat. Lad is fine at escorting undesirables off the Place. Want to seehim perform?"
But Wefers did not answer. Snatching the impotent pistol and shoving itback into his coattail pocket, he strode lakeward, muttering luridthreats as he went.
The Mistress watched his lank figure on its way down the lawn to thedock.
"It's-it's AWFUL!" she faltered, clutching at her husband's arm. "Oh,you don't suppose he can--can really get leave to shoot Laddie, do you?"
"I don't know," answered the Master, as uneasy as she. "A mad-dog scarehas a way of throwing everybody into a fool panic. There's no knowingwhat some magistrate may let him do. But one thing is mighty certain,"he reassured her. "If the whole National Guard of New Jersey comeshere, with a truckload of shooting-warrants, they aren't going to getLaddie. I promise you that. I don't quite know how we are going toprevent it. But we're going to. That's a pledge. So you're not toworry."
As they talked they continued to watch the constable in his clumpingexit from the Place. Wefers reached the dock, and stamped out to itsextreme end, where was moored the livery scow he had commandeered forhis journey across the lake from the village.
A light wind was blowing. It had caught the scow's wide stern and hadswung it out from the dock. Wefers unhooked the chain and dropped itclankingly into the bottom. Then, with ponderous uncertainty, hestepped from the dock's string-piece to the prow of his boat.
A whiff of breeze slapped the loosened scow, broadside on, and sent itdrifting an inch or two away. As a result, Homer Wefers' largeshoe-sole was planted on the edge of the prow, instead of its center.His sole was slippery from the dew of the lawn. The prow's edge wasstill more slippery, from having been the scene of a recentfish-cleaning.
The constable's gangling body strove in vain to hold any semblance ofbalance. His foot slid out from its precarious perch, pushing the boatfarther into the lake. And the dignified officer flapped wildly inmid-air.
Not being built on a lighter-than-air principle, he failed to hold thisundignified aerial pose for more than the tenth of a second. At the endof that time he plunged splashingly into the lake, at a depth ofsomething like eight feet of water.
"Good!" applauded the Master, as the Mistress gasped aloud in notwholly sorrowful surprise and as Lad ambled gayly down the lawn for acloser view of this highly diverting sight. "Good! I hope he ruinsevery stitch he has on; and then gets rheumatism and tonsilitis. He--"
The Master's babbling jaw fell slack; and the pleased grin faded fromhis face.
Wefers had come to the surface, after his ducking. He was fully threeyards beyond the dock and as far from his drifting scow. And he wasdoing all manner of sensational things with his lanky arms and legs andbody. In brief, he was doing everything except swim.
It was this phenomenon which had wiped away the Master's grin of purehappiness.
Any man may fall into the water, and may present a most ludicrousspectacle in doing so. But, on the instant he comes to the surface, hisvery first motions will show whether or not he is a swimmer. It had notoccurred to the Master that anyone reared in the North Jerseylake-country should not have at least enough knowledge of swimming tocarry him a few yards. But, even as many sailors cannot swim a stroke,so many an inlander, born and brought up within sight of fresh water,has never taken the trouble to grasp the simplest rudiments ofnatation. And such a man, very evidently, was Homer Wefers, TownshipHead Constable.
His howl of crass panic was not needed to prove this to the Master. Hisevery wild antic showed it. But that same terror-stricken screech wasrequired to set forth the true situation to the one member of the triowho had learned from birth to judge by sound and by scent, rather thanby mere sight.
With no good grace, the Master yanked off his own coat and waistcoat,and bent to unstrap his hiking boots. He did not relish the prospect ofa wetting, for the mere sake of saving from death this atrocioustrespasser. He knew the man could probably keep afloat for at least aminute longer. And he was not minded to shorten the period of fear byripping off his own outer garments with any melodramatic haste.
As he undid the first boot-latchet, he felt the Mistress's tensefingers on his shoulder.
"Wait!" she exhorted
Astounded at this cold-blooded counsel from his tender-hearted wife, helooked up, and followed the direction of her eagerly pointing hand.
"Look!" she was exulting. "It'll all solve itself! See if it doesn't.Look! He can't shoot Laddie, after--after--"
The Master was barely in time to see Lad swirl along the dock withexpress-train speed and spring far out into the lake.
The dog struck water, a bare ten inches from Wefers' madly tossinghead. The constable, in his crazy panic, flung both bony arms about thedog. And, man and collie together disappeared under the surface, in aswirl of churned foam.
The Mistress cried aloud, at this hideous turn her pretty plan hadtaken. The Master, one shoe off and one shoe on, hobbled at top pacetoward the dock.
As he reached the foot of the lawn, Lad's head and shoulders came intoview above the little whirlpool caused by the sinking bodies' suction.And, at the same moment, the convulsed features of Homer Wefers showedthrough the eddy. The man was thrashing and twisting in a way thatturned the lake around him into a white maelstrom.
As the Master set foot on the dock he saw the Collie rush forward withan impetus that sent both shaggy mahogany shoulders far out of water.Striking with brilliant accuracy, the dog avoided Wefers' flailing armsand feet, and clinched his strong teeth into the back of the drowningman's collar.
Thus, Lad was safe from the blindly clinging arms and from a kick. Hehad chosen the one strategic hold; and he maintained it. A splashing ofthe unwieldy body made both heads vanish under water, for a barehalf-second, as the Master poised himself on the string-piece for adive. But the dive was not made.
For the heads reappeared. And now, whether from palsy of fright or frombelated intelligence,--Wefers ceased his useless struggles; though nothis strangled shrieks for help. The collie, calling on all his wirypower, struck out for the dock; keeping the man's face above water, andtugging at his soggy weight with a scientific strength that sent thetwo, slowly but steadily, shoreward.
After the few feet of the haul, Wefers went silent. Into his blanklyaffrighted face came a look of foolish bewilderment. The Master,remembering his wife's hint, and certain now of Lad's ability tocomplete the rescue, stood waiting on the string-piece. Once, for asecond, Wefers' eyes met his; but they were averted in queer haste.
As Lad tugged his burden beneath the stringpiece, the Master bent downand gripped
the sodden wet shoulders of the constable. Onenone-too-gentle heave, and Wefers was lying in a panting and drippingheap on the clean dock. Lad, relieved of his heavy load, swam leisurelyaround to shore. It had been a delightfully thrilling day, thus far,for the collie. But he was just a bit tired.
By the time the dazed constable was able to sit up and peer owlishlyinto the unloving faces of the Mistress and the Master, Lad had shakenhimself thrice and was pattering across the dock toward the group. Fromthe two humans, Wefers' gaze shifted to the oncoming dog. Then heglanced back at the sullen depths of lake water beyond thestring-piece. Then he let his head sink on his chest. For perhaps awhole minute, he sat thus; his eyes shut, his breath still fast andhysterical.
Nobody spoke. The Mistress looked down at the drenched man. Then shewinked at the equally silent Master, and laid a caressing little handon Lad's wet head. At length, Wefers lifted his face and glowered atthe trio. But, as his eye met Lad's quizzically interested gaze, hefidgeted.
"Well?" prompted the Master, "do you want those cartridges back?"
Wefers favored him with a scowl of utter dislike. Then, his eyes againaverted, the wet man mumbled:
"I come over here today, to do my dooty.--Dogs that get bit by mad dogshad ought to be shot.--I come over here to do my dooty. Likewise, Idone it.--I shot that dog of yours that got bit, yest'day."
"Huh?" ejaculated the Master.
"This dog here looks some like him," went on Wefers, sulkily. "But itain't him. And I'll so report to the author'ties.--I done what I cometo do. The case is closed. And-and-if you folks ever want to sell yourdog, why,--well, I'll just go mortgage something and--and buy him off'nyou!"
Further Adventures of Lad Page 2
