CHAPTER VIII. In Strange Company
Lad was getting along in years.
Not yet had age begun to claw at him; blearing the wondrous deep-setdark eyes and silvering the classic muzzle and broadening the shapelyskull and stiffening the sweepingly free gait; dulling the sharp earsor doing any of the other pitiably tragic things that nature does tothe dog who is progressing in his teens. Those, humiliations were stillwaiting for Lad, one by one; beyond the next Turn of the Road.
Yet the romp and the spirit of bubbling fun and the lavishly needlessexercise--these were merging into sobriety. True, at rare times, withthe Mistress or the Master--especially with the Mistress, Lad wouldforget he was middle-aged and dignified; and would play like a crazypuppy. But, for the most part he had begun to carry his years a trifleseriously.
He was not yet in the winter or even the Indian Summer of his beautifullife. But, at least, he had strolled into its early autumn.
And this, be it well remembered, is the curse which Stepmother Natureplaced upon The Dog, when he elected to turn his back on his own kind,and to become the only one of the world's four-footed folk to serve Manof his own accord. To punish the Dog for this abnormality, Naturedecreed that his life should begin to fail, almost as soon as it hadreached the glory of its early prime.
A dog is not at his best, in mind or in body, until he has passed histhird year. And, before he nears the ten-year mark, he has begun todecline. At twelve or thirteen, he is as decrepit as is the averagehuman of seventy. And not one dog in a hundred can be expected to liveto fourteen.
(Lad, by some miracle, was destined to endure past his own sixteenthbirthday; a record seldom equaled among his race.)
And so to our story:--
When the car and the loaded equipment-truck drew up at the door, thatgolden October day, Lad forgot his advancing years. In a moment, he wasonce more a puppy. For he knew what it all meant. It did not need theadvent of the Mistress and the Master from the house, in rough outingclothes, nor the piling of duffle-bags and the like into the car'stonneau, to send Laddie into a transport of trumpeting and gyrations.The first sight and sniff of the tents, rolled tight in the truck, haddone that. Lad understood. Lad always understood.
This gear meant the annual fall camping trip in the back reaches of theRamapo Mountains, some twenty-odd miles north of the Place; thefortnight of tent-life, of shooting, of fishing, of bracingly chillnights and white-misted dawns and of drowsily happy campfire evenings.It meant all manner of adventure and fun for Lad.
Now, on a fishing jaunt, the presence of any kind of dog is aliability; not an asset. A thousand dog-fancier fishermen can attest tothat. And, when humans are hunting any sort of game, a collie isseveral degrees worse than worthless.
Thus, Lad's usefulness, as a member of the party, was likely to benegligible;--except in the matter of guarding camp and as an all-roundpal for the two campers.
Yet, as on former years, there was no question of leaving him at home.Where the Mistress and the Master went, he went, too; whenever such athing were possible. He was their chum. And they would have missed himas much as he would have missed them.
Which, of course, was an absurd way for two reasonably sane people toregard a mere dog. But, then, Lad was not a "mere" dog.
Thus it was that he took his place, by invitation, in the car'stonneau, amid a ruck of hand-luggage; as the camp-ward pilgrimagebegan. Ten miles farther on, the equipment truck halted to take aboarda guide named Barret, and his boy; and their professionally reliableold Irish setter.
This setter had a quality, not over-common with members of his grandbreed; a trait which linked his career pathetically with that of alivery-plug. He would hunt for anybody. He went through his day's work,in stubble or undergrowth, with the sad conscientiousness of an elderlybookkeeper.
Away from the main road, and up a steadily rising byway that mergedinto an axle-snapping mountain-track, toiled the cars; at last comingto a wheezy and radiator-boiling halt at the foot of a rock-summit sosteep that no vehicle could breast it. In a cup, at the summit of thismountain-top hillock, was the camp-site; its farther edge only a fewyards above a little bass-populated spring-lake.
The luggage was hauled, gruntily, up the steep; and camp was pitched.Then car and truck departed for civilization. And the two weeks ofwilderness life set in.
It was a wonderful time for old Lad. The remoteness and wild stillnessof it all seemed to take him back, in a way, to the wolf-centuries ofhis ancestors. It had been monstrous pleasant to roam the peacefulforest back of the Place. But there was a genuine thrill in exploringthese all-but manless woods; with their queer scents of wild thingsthat seldom ventured close to the ordained haunts of men.
It was exciting, to wake at midnight, beside the smoldering campfire,and to hear, above the industrious snoring, of the guide and his boy,the stealthy forest noises; the pad-pad-pad of some wary prowlercircling at long range the twinkling embers; the crash of a far-offbuck; the lumbering of some bear down to the lake to drink. The almostmoveless sharp air carried a myriad fascinating scents which humannostrils were too gross to register; but which were acutely plain andunderstandable to the great dog.
Best of all, in this outing, Lad's two deities, the Mistress and theMaster, were never busy at desk or piano, or too much tangled up withthe society of silly outsiders, to be his comrades and playmates. True,sometimes they hurt his supersensitive feelings most distressingly, bycalling to him: "No, no, Laddie. Back! Watch camp'" when he essayed tojoin them as they set forth with rods over their shoulders for ahalf-day's fishing; or as, armed with guns, they whistled up the boredbut worthy setter for a shooting trip. But, for the most, Lad was closeat their sides, during these two wonderful weeks. And he was very happy.
Once, during a solitary ramble, before the humans had awakened in themorning, Lad caught an odd scent; and followed it for a quarter miledown the mountainside. It waxed stronger and ranker. At last, a turnaround a high boulder brought him face to face with its source. And hefound himself confronting a huge black bear.
The bear was busy looting a bee-tree. It was the season when he and hislike are stocking up, with all the fatmaking food they can gorge, inpreparation for the winter's "holing-in." Thus, he viewed with sluggishnon-interest the advent of the dog. He had scented Lad for as long atime as Lad had scented him. But he had eaten on, unperturbed. For heknew himself to be the match of any four dogs; especially if the dogswere unaccompanied by men. And, a long autumn of food had dulled histemper.
So, he merely checked his honey-gorging long enough to roll a rottedlog to one side and to scoop up from under it a pawful of fat whitegrubs which had decided to winter beneath the decayed trunk. Then,absent-mindedly brushing aside a squadron of indignant bees, hecontinued his sweet feast.
As Lad rounded the boulder and came to a growling halt, the bear raisedhis honey-smeared head, showed a yellowing fang from under one upcurledcorner of his sticky lips; and glowered evilly at the collie from outof his reddening little eyes. Then he made as though to go on eating.
But Lad would not have it so. Into his rejuvenated heart stole a tingeof the mischief which makes a collie puppy dash harrowingly at atethered cow. Barking with sheer delight in the excitement of meetingthis savage-looking monster, the dog rushed merrily at the bear. Histeeth were not bared. His hackles were not bristling. This was nofight; but a jolly game. Lad's dark eyes danced with fun.
Midway of his charge, he checked himself. Not through fear, but fromutter astonishment. For his new acquaintance had done a rightnon-quadrupedal thing. Bruin had reared himself upon his hind legs; andwas standing there, like a man, confronting the dog. He towered, thus,ever so high above Lad's head.
His short arms, with their saber-shaped claws, were outstretched towardLad, as if in humble supplication. But there was nothing supplicatingor even civil in the tiny red eyes that squinted ferociously down atthe collie. Small wonder that Laddie halted his own galloping advance;and stood doubtful!
The Maste
r, a minute earlier, had turned out of the blankets for hispainfully icy morning plunge in the lakelet. The fanfare of barking, aquarter-mile below, changed his intent. A true dogman knows his dog'sbark,--and its every shade of meaning,--as well as though it were humanspeech. From the manner wherewith Lad had given tongue, the Master knewhe had cornered or treed something quite out of the common. Catching uphis rifle, he made for the direction of the bark; running at top speed.
The bear put an end to the moment of hesitancy. Lunging forward, heraked at the crouching collie, with one of his murderous claws; in agesture designed to gather the impudent dog into his death-embrace.
Now, even from humans, except only the Mistress and the Master, Laddetested patting or handling of any kind. Whether he thought thismaneuver of the bear's an uncouth form of caress or knew it for amenace,--he moved back from it. Yet he did so with a leisurely motion,devoid of fear and expressive of a certain lofty contempt. Perhaps thatis why he moved without his native caution.
At all events, the tip of one of the sweeping claws grazed his ear,opening the big vein, and hurting like the very mischief.
On the instant, Lad changed from a mischievous investigator to a deeplyoffended and angry dog. No longer in doubt as to Bruin's intent, heslithered out of reach of the grasping arms, with all the amazing speedof a wolf-descended collie of the best sort. And, in practically thesame fraction of a second, he had flashed back to the attack.
Diving in under the other's surprisingly agile arms, he slashed thebear's stomach with one of his razorlike eyeteeth; then spun to oneside and was out of reach. Down came the bear, on all fours; ragingfrom the slash. Lurching forward, he flung his huge bulk at the dog.Lad flashed out of reach, but with less leeway than he would haveexpected. For Bruin, for all his awkwardness, could move withbewildering speed.
And, as the bear turned, Lad was at him again, nipping the hairy flank,till his teeth met in its fat; and then diving as before under thelunging body of the foe.
It was at this point the Master hove in sight. He was just in time tosee the flank-bite and to see Lad dance out of reach of the furiouscounter. It was an interesting spectacle, there in the gray dawn and inthe primeval forest's depths;--this battle between a gallant dog and aragingly angry bear. If the dog had been other than his own loved chum,the Master might have stood there and watched its outcome. But he wasenough of a woodsman to know there could, in all probability, be butone end to such a fight.
Lad weighed eighty pounds,--an unusually heavy weight for a collie thatcarries no loose fat,--and he was the most compactly powerful dog ofhis size the Master had ever seen. Also, when he chose to exert it, Ladhad the swiftness of a wildcat and the battling prowess of a tiger.
Yet all this would scarce carry him to victory, or even to a draw,against a black bear several times heavier than himself and with theability to rend with his claws as well as with his teeth. Once letLad's foot slip, in charge or in elusive retreat,--once let himmisjudge time or distance--and he must be crushed to a pulp or rippedto ribbons.
Wherefore, the Master brought his rifle to his shoulder. His fingercurled about the trigger. But it was no easy thing, by that dim light,to aim with any accuracy. Nor was there the slightest assurance thatLad,--dancing in and out and everywhere and nowhere at once,--might notcome in line with the bullet. Thus,--from a tolerable knowledge ofbears and of their comparative mildness in the plump season of theyear,--he shouted at the top of his lungs; and, at the same time, firedinto the air.
The bluff sufficed. Even as Lad jumped back from close quarters andwhirled about, at sound of the voice and the shot,--the bear dropped toall fours, with ridiculous haste; and shambled off at very creditablespeed into the tangle of undergrowth.
Not so far gone in the battle-lust had Bruin been that he cared to riskconflict with an armed man. Twice, before, in his somewhat long life,had he heard at close quarters the snap of a rifle, in the foreststillness, and the whine of a bullet. Once, such a bullet had found itsmark by scoring a gouge on his scalp; a gouge which gnats and mayfliesand "no-see-'ems" and less cleanly pests had made a torment for him,for weeks thereafter.
Bruin had a good memory. Just now, he had nothing to defend. He was notat bay. Nor had the fight-fury possessed him to the exclusion ofsanity. Thus, he fled. And, eagerly, Lad gave chase.
But, at the very edge of the bush-rampart, the Master's call broughtthe collie back, to heel, exceeding glum and reluctant. Reproachfully,Lad gazed up at the man who had spoiled his morning of enthrallingsport. Halfheartedly, Lad listened to the Master's rebuke, as hefollowed back to camp. His day had begun so delightfully! And, asusual, a human had interrupted the fun, at the most exciting time; andfor no apparent reason. Humans were like that.
Barring one other incident, Lad's two weeks at camp wereuneventful,--until the very last day. That "one incident" can be passedover, with modest brevity. It concerned a black-and-white cat which Ladsaw, one evening, sneaking past the campfire's farthest shadows. Hegave chase. The chase ended in less than ten seconds. And, Lad had tobe bathed and scoured and rubbed and anointed, for the best part oftwenty-four hours, before he was allowed to come again within fiftyfeet of the dining tent.
On a raw morning, the car and the truck made their appearance at thefoot of the rocky mountaintop hillock. The tents had been struck, atdaylight; and every cooking utensil and dish had been scoured and putinto the crate as soon as it was used. Camp was policed and cleaned.The fire was beaten to death; a half-score pails of water were dowsedover its remains; and damp earth was flung upon it.
In short, the camping spot was not only left as it had been found andas one would want it to be found again, but every trace of fire wasdestroyed.
And all this, be it known, is more than a mere rule for campers. Itshould be their sacred creed. If one is not thoroughgoing sportsmanenough to make his camp-site scrupulously clean, at least there is onedetail he should never allow himself to neglect;--a detail whoseomission should be punished by a term in prison: Namely, the utterextinction of the campfire.
Every year, millions of dollars' worth of splendid trees and of homesare wiped out, by forest fires. No forest fire, since the birth oftime, ever started of its own accord. Each and every one has been dueto human carelessness.
A campfire ill-extinguished;--a smolder of tobacco not stampedout;--the flaming cinders of a railroad train,--a match dropped amongdry leaves before spark and blaze have both been destroyed,--these bethe first and only causes of the average forest fire. All areavoidable. None is avoided. And the loss to property and to life and tonatural resources is unbelievably great.
Any fool can start a forest fire. Indeed, a fool generally does. But ahundred men cannot check it. Forest wardens post warnings. Forestpatrols, afoot or in airships, keep sharp watch. But the selfishcarelessness of man undoes their best precautions.
Sometimes in spring or in lush summer, but far oftenest in the dryautumn, the Red Terror stalks over mountain and valley; leaving blackruin in its wake. Scarce an autumn passes that the dirty smoke reekdoes not creep over miles of sweet woodland, blotting out the sunshinefor a time and blotting out rich vegetation for much longer.
This particular autumn was no exception. On the day before camp wasbroken, the Mistress had spied, from the eyrie heights of the knoll, agrim line of haze far to southward; and a lesser smoke-smear to thewest. And the night sky, on two horizons, had been faintly lurid.
The campers had noted these phenomena, with sorrow. For, eachwraithlike smoke-swirl meant the death of tree and shrub. Lad noted thesmudges as distinctly as did they. Indeed, to his canine nostrils, thechill autumn air brought the faint reek of wood-smoke; an odor much tooelusive, at that distance, for humans to smell. And, once or twice, hewould glance in worried concern at these humans; as if wondering whythey took so coolly a manifestation that a thousand-year-old hereditaryinstinct made the dog shrink from.
But the humans showed no outward sign of terror or of rage. And, asever, taking his tone from his gods, La
d decided there was nothing tofear. So, he tried to give no further heed to the reek.
The driver of the truck and his assistant were full of tales of thefire's ravages in other sections. And their recital was heard withactive interest by the folk who for fourteen days had been out of touchwith the world.
"It's well we're lighting out for civilization," said the Master, as hesuperintended the loading of the truck. "The woods are as dry astinder. And if the wind should change and grow a bit fresher, the blazeover near Wildcat Mountain might come in this direction. If ever itdoes, it'll travel faster than any gang of fire-fighters can block it.This region is dead ripe for such a thing. Not a drop of rain in amonth . . . . No, no, Laddie!" he broke off in his maunderings, as thecollie sought to leap aboard the truck in the wake of a roll ofbedding. "No, no. You're going with us, in the car."
Now, long usage and an uncanny intelligence had given Lad a more thantolerable understanding of the English language's simpler phrases. Theterm, "You're going with us in the car," was as comprehensible to himas to any child. He had heard it spoken, with few variations, athousand times, in the past nine years. At once, on hearing theMaster's command, he jumped down from the truck; trotted off to thecar, a hundred yards distant; and sprang into his wonted place in theluggage-cluttered tonneau.
He chanced to jump aboard, from one side; just as the guide'shobbledehoy son was hoisting a heavy and cumbersome duffle bag into thetonneau, from the other. Lad's eighty pounds of nervous energy smotethe bag, amidships; as the boy was balancing it high in air,preparatory to setting it down between two other sacks. As a result,boy and bag rolled backward in a tangled embrace, across several yardsof stony ground.
Lad had not meant to cause any such catastrophe. Yet he stood lookingdown in keen enjoyment at the lively spectacle. But as the boy came toa halt, against a sharp-pointed rock, and sat up, sniveling with pain,the great dog's aspect changed. Seeming to realize he was somehow toblame, he jumped lightly down from the car and went over to offer tothe sufferer such comfort as patting forepaw and friendly lickingtongue could afford.
"Here!" called the guide, who had seen but a crosssection of thecollision. "Here, you! Stop a-playin' with the dorg, and hustle thembags onto--"
"I wa'n't playin' with him," half-blubbered the boy, glowering dourlyat the sympathetic Lad; and scrambling up from his bruise-puncturedroll on the ground. "He came a-buntin' me; and I--"
"That'll do, Sonny!" rasped Barret, who was strong on discipline andwho fancied he had witnessed the climax of a merry game between boy anddog, "I seen what I seen. And I don't aim to take no back-talk from awall-eyed, long-legged, chuckle-headed brat; that's hired to help hispoor old dad and who spends his time cuttin' monkeyshines with a dorg.You take that collie over to the truck, and ask his boss to look afterhim and to see he don't pester us while we're aworkin'. On the wayback, stop at the lean-to and catch me that bag of cookin' things Ileft there. The's just room for 'em, under the seat. Chase!"
Woefully, the boy limped off; his hand clinched in the fur of Lad'sruff. The dog, ordinarily, would have resented such familiarity. But,still seeking to comfort the victim's manifest unhappiness, he sufferedhimself to be led along. Which was Lad's way. The sight of sorrow or ofpain always made him ridiculously gentle and sympathetic.
The boy's bruises hurt cruelly. The distance to the truck was a fullhundred yards. The distance to the lean-to (a permanent shed, back ofthe camp-site) was about the same, and in almost the oppositedirection. The prospect of the double journey was not alluring. Theyouth hit on a scheme to shorten it. First glancing back to see thathis father was not looking, he climbed the bare stony hillock, towardthe lean-to; Lad pacing courteously along beside him.
Arrived at the shed, he took from a nail a rope-length; tied it aroundLad's neck; fastened the dog to one of the uprights; shouldered thecooking-utensil bag; and started back toward the car.
He had saved himself, thus, a longer walk; and had obeyed his father'sorders to take Lad away. He was certain the Master, or one of theothers, missing the dog, would see him standing forlornly there, justoutside the lean-to's corner; or that another errand would bring someof the party to the shed to release him. At best, the boy was sore ofheart and of body, at his own rough treatment. And he had scantinterest anything else.
Twenty minutes later, the truck chugged bumpily off, upon its trip downthe hazardous mountain track. The guide's boy rode in triumph on theseat beside the truckman;--a position of honor and of excitement.
"Where's Lad?" asked the Mistress, a minute afterward, as she and theMaster and the guide made ready to get into the car and follow.
"Aboard the truck," responded Barret, in entire good faith. "Him and myboy got a-skylarkin' here. So I sent Bud over to the truck with him."
"That's queer!" mused the Mistress. "Why, Laddie never condescends toplay,--or 'skylark,' as you call it,--with anyone except my husband ormyself! He--"
"Never mind!" put in the Master. "We'll catch up with the truck beforeit's gone a mile. And we can take Laddie aboard here, then. But Iwonder he consented to go ahead, without us. That isn't like Lad.Holiday-spirits, I suppose. This trip has made a puppy of him. Astately old gentleman like Laddie would never think of rounding upbears and skunks, if he was at home." As he talked, the car got underway; moving at rackety and racking "first speed" over hummock and bump;as it joggled into the faint wheeltrack. By reason of this noise and ofthe Master's stupid homily, none of the trio heard an amazed littlebark, from the knoll-top, a hundred yards behind them.
Nor did the car catch up with the truck. At the end of the first halfmile, the horrible roadbed began to take toll of the elderly tires.There were two punctures, in rapid succession. Then came a blowout.And, at the bottom of the mountain a third puncture varied the monotonyof the ride. Thus, the truck reached the Place well ahead of the fastervehicle.
The Mistress's first question was for Lad. Terror seized upon theguide's boy, as he remembered where he had left the dog. He glancedobliquely at the truckman, who had unloaded and who was cranking.
"Now--" said the scared youth, glibly, avoiding his father'sunsuspecting eye. "Now--now, Lad he was settin' 'twixt Simmons and me.And he hops down and runs off around the house, towards--towards thelake--soon as we stopped here. Most likely he was thirsty-like, orsomething."
The Mistress was busy with details of the car's unpacking. So sheaccepted the explanation. It seemed probable that the long and dustyride should have made Lad thirsty; and that after his drink at thelake, he had made the rounds of the Place; as ever was his wont afterhis few brief absences from home.
Not until dinnertime did she give another thought to her loved pet'sabsence. The guide and his boy had long since departed, on the truck,for their ten-mile distant home. Nor, even yet, did it occur to theMistress to question the truth of the youngster's story. She merelywondered why, for the first time in his life, Lad should absent himselfat dinnertime from his time-honored place on the dining-room floor, atthe Master's left. And, amusedly, she recalled what her husband hadsaid of the stately dog's new propensity for mischief. Perhaps Lad wasexploring the friendly home-woods in search of a bear!
But when ten o'clock came and Lad did not seek the shelter of his"cave" under the music-room piano, for the night, there was real worry.The Mistress went out on the veranda and sounded long and shrilly uponthe silver whistle which hung from her belt.
From puppyhood, Laddie had always come, at a sweeping gallop, on soundof this whistle. Its notes could travel, through still air, for a halfmile or more. Their faintest echoes always brought the dog in eagerresponse. But tonight, a dozen wait-punctuated blasts brought no otherresponse than to set the distant village dogs to barking.
The Mistress went back into the house, genuinely worried. Acting on asudden idea, she called up the Place's superintendent, at the gatelodge.
"You were down here when the truck came to the house this afternoon,weren't you?" she asked.
"Yes, ma'am," said the man. "I was
waiting for it. Mike and I helpedSimmons to unload."
"Did you see which way Lad went, when he jumped out of the truck?"pursued the Mistress. "Or have any of you seen him since then?"
"Why, no, ma'am," came the puzzled answer. "I haven't seen him at all.I supposed he was in the car with you, and that maybe he'd been in thehouse ever since. He wasn't on the truck: That's one sure thing. I sawit stop; and I stayed till they finished emptying it. Lad wasn't there."
There was a moment's pause. Then, the Mistress spoke again. Her voiceslightly muffled, she said:
"Please find out if there is plenty of gas in my car;--enough to takeit--say, forty miles. Thank you."
"What on earth--?" began the Master, as his wife left the telephone andpicked up an ulster.
"Laddie didn't come home on the truck," she made tremulous reply. "Andhe wasn't with us. He hasn't come home all."
"He'll find his way, easily enough," returned the Master, albeit withno great assurance. "Lad's found his way farther than that. He--"
"If he was going to find his way," interrupted the Mistress, "he'd havefound it before now. I know Laddie. So do you. He is up there. And hecan't get back. He--"
"Nonsense!" laughed the Master. "Why, of course, he--"
"He is up there," insisted the Mistress, "and he can't get back. I knowhim well enough to be, sure he'd have overtaken us, when we stopped allthose times to fix the tires;--if he had been left behind. And I knowsomething else: When we started on, after that first puncture, we wereabout half a mile below the knoll. And as we went around the bend,there was a gap in the trees. I was looking back. For a second, I couldsee the lean-to, outlined ever so clearly against the sky. Andalongside of it was standing some animal. It was far away; and wepassed out of sight so suddenly, that I couldn't see what it was;except that it was large and dark. And it seemed to be struggling tomove from where it stood. I was going to speak to you about it,--Isupposed it was that black bear of Laddie's,--when we had the nextpuncture. And that made me forget all about it;--till now. Of course,it never occurred to me it could be Lad. Because Barret had said he wasin the truck. But--but oh, it WAS Laddie! He--he was fastened, orcaught, in some way. I know he was. Why, I could see him struggle to--"
"Come on!" broke in the Master, hustling into his mackinaw. "Unlessyou'll stay here, while I--"
"No," she protested. "I'm going. And I'm going because I'm thinking ofthe same thing that's troubling you. I'm thinking of those forest firesand of what you said about the wind changing and--"
"Come on!" repeated the Master; starting for the garage.
Which shows how maudlinly foolish two otherwise sane people can be;when they are lucky enough to own such a dog as Sunnybank Lad.Naturally, the right course, at so cold and late an hour of the autumnnight, and after a long day of packing and motoring and unpacking, wasto go to bed; and to trust to luck that the wise old collie would findhis way back again. Instead, the two set off on a twenty-mile wildgoosechase, with worried faces and fast-beating hearts. It did not occur toeither of them to stay at home; or to send someone else on the long,frosty drive in search of the missing dog.
Lad had watched the preparations for departure with increasing worry.Also, the abnormally sensitive old fellow was wretchedly unhappy.Except at dog-shows, he had never before been tied up. And at suchshows, the Mistress and the Master were always on hand to pet andreassure him. Yet, here, he had suffered himself to be tied by a smellyrope to the rotting post of a lean-to, by a comparative stranger. And,in the open ground below the hillock, his deities moved back and forthwithout so much as an upward glance at him.
Then, to his dismay, truck and car had made off down the mountainside;and he had been left alone in his imprisonment. Except for a singleunheard bark of protest, Lad made no effort to call back the departinghumans. Never before had they forsaken him. And he had full trust thatthey would come back in a few minutes and set him free.
When the car halted, a half-mile below, Lad felt certain his faith wasabout to be justified. Then, as it moved on again, he sprang to the endof his short rope, and tried to break free and follow.
Then came the dying away of the chugging motor's echoes; and silencerolled up and engulfed the wilderness hilltop.
Lad was alone. They had gone off and left him. They had with never aword of goodby or a friendly command to watch camp until their return.This was not the dog's first sojourn in camp. And his memory wasflawless. Always, he recalled, the arrival and the loading of the truckand the striking of tents had meant that the stay was over and that atthe party was going home.
Home! The charm and novelty of the wilderness all at once faded. Ladwas desperately lonely and desperately unhappy. And his feelings werecruelly hurt; at the strange treatment accorded him.
Yet, it did not occur to him to seek freedom and to follow his gods tothe home he loved. He had been tied here, presumably by their order;certainly with their knowledge. And it behooved him to wait until theyshould come to release him. He knew they would come back, soon or late.They were his gods, his chums, his playmates. They would no more deserthim than he would have deserted them. It was all right, somehow. Only,the waiting was tedious!
With a tired little sigh, the collie curled up in a miserable heap onthe stony ground, the shortness of his tether making even this effortat repose anything but comfortable. And he waited.
A dog, that is happy and well, settles himself for a prolonged wait, bystretching out on his side;--oftenest the left side; and by droppingoff into slumber. Seldom, unless he be cold or ill, does a big dog curlup into a ball, to rest. Nor is he thoroughly comfortable in such aposture.
Lad was not comfortable. He was not resting. He was wretched. Nor didhe try to snooze. Curled in a compact heap, his sorrowful eyes abrimwith sorrow, he lay scanning the bumpy mountainside and straining hisears, for sign of the car's return. His breathing was not as splendidlyeasy as usual. For, increasingly, that earlier twinge of acridsmoke-reek was tickling his throat. The haze, that had hovered over thefarther hilltops and valleys, was thickening; and it was creepingnearer. The breath of morning breeze was stiffening into a steady wind;a wind that blew strong from the west and carried on it the smell offorest fire.
Lad did not enjoy the ever-stronger smoke scent. But he gave onlyhalf-heed to it. His main attention was centered on that windingwagon-track whence the car and the truck had vanished into thelowlands. And, through the solemnly spent hours he lay forlornlywatching it.
But, after sunset, the smoke became too pervasive to be ignored longer.It was not only stinging his throat and lungs, but it was making hiseyes smart. And it had cut off the view of all save the nearermountain-peaks.
Lad got to his feet; whining softly, under his breath. Ancestralinstinct was fairly shouting to his brain that here was terrible peril.He strained at his thick rope; and looked imploringly down thewagon-road.
The wind had swelled into something like a gale. And, now, to Lad'skeen ears came the far-off snap and crack of a million dry twigs as theflame kissed them in its fast-crawling advance. This sharper sound roseand fell, as a theme to the endless and slowly-augmenting roar whichhad been perceptible for hours.
Again, Laddie strained at his heavy rope. Again, his smoke-stung eyesexplored the winding trail down the mountain. No longer was the trailso distinguishable as before. Not only by reason of darkness, butbecause from that direction came the bulk of the eddying gusts ofwind-driven smoke.
The fire's mounting course was paralleling the trail; checked fromcrossing it only by a streambed and an outcrop of granite whichzigzagged upward from the valley. The darkness served also to tinge thelowering sky to south and to westward with a steadily brightening luridglare. The Master had been right in his glum prophecy that a strong andsudden shift of wind would carry the conflagration through thetinder-dry undergrowth and dead trees of that side of the mountain, farfaster than any body of fire-fighters could hope to check it.
The flame-reflection began to light the open spaces below the kn
oll,with increasing vividness. The chill of early evening was counteractedwaves of sullen heat, which the wind sent swirling before it.
Lad panted; from warmth as much as from nervousness. He had gone allday without water. And a collie, more perhaps than any other dog, needsplenty of fresh, cool water to drink; at any and all times. The hotwind and the smoke were parching his throat. His thirst was intolerable.
Behind him, not very many yards away, was the ice-cold mountain lakeletin which so often he had bathed and drunk. The thought of it made himhate the stout rope.
But he made no serious effort to free himself. He had been tiedthere,--supposedly by the Master's command. And, as a well-trained dog,it was his place to stay where he was, until the Master should freehim. So, apart from an instinctive tug or two at his moorings, hesubmitted to his fate.
But, in mid-evening, something occurred, to change his viewpoint, inthis matter of nonresistance.
The line of fire, climbing the mountain toward him, had encountered amarshy stretch; where, in normal weather, water stood inches deep.Despite the drought, there was still enough moisture to stay theadvance of the red line until the dampness could be turned to dust andtindery vegetation. And, in the meanwhile, after the custom of itskind, the fire had sought to spread to either side. Stopped at thegranite-outcrop to the right, it had rolled faster through the herbageto the left.
Thus, by the time the morass was dry enough for the flame to pass it,there was a great sickle of crawling red fire to the left; whichencircled a whole flank of the mountain and which was moving straightupward.
Lad knew nothing of this; nor why the advance of the fire's direct linehad been so long checked. Nor did he know, presumably, that this sickleof flame was girdling the mountain-flank; like a murderous net; hemmingin all live things within the flaming arc and forcing them on in panic,ahead of its advance. Perhaps he did not even note the mad scurryingsin undergrowth and bramble, in front of the oncoming blaze. But onething, very speedily, became apparent to him:--
From out a screen of hazel and witch-elm (almost directly in front ofthe place where the truck, that morning, had been loaded) crashed aright hideous object. By sight and by scent Lad knew the creature forhis olden foe, the giant black bear.
Growling, squealing, a dozen stinging fiery sparks sizzling through hisbushy coat, the bear tore his way from the hedge of thicket and outinto the open. The fire had roused him from his snug lair and haddriven him ahead of it with a myriad hornets of flame, in a crazedsearch for safety.
At sight of the formidable monster, Lad realized for the first time thefull extent of his own helplessness. Tethered to a rope which gave himscarce twenty-five inches of leeway, he was in no fit condition to fendoff the giant's assault.
He wasted no time in futile struggles. All his race's uncanny powers ofresource came rushing to his aid. Without an instant's pause, hewheeled about; and drove his keen teeth into the rope that bound him tothe post.
Lad did not chew aimlessly at the thick tether; nor throw away oneounce of useless energy. Seizing the hempen strands, he ground histeeth deeply and with scientific skill, into their fraying recesses.Thus does a dog, addicted to cutting his leash, attack the bonds whichhold him.
It was Lad's first experience of the kind. But instinct served himwell. The fact that the rope had been left out of doors, in allweathers, for several years, served him far better. Not only did itsever the more easily; but it soon lost the cohesion needed forresisting any strong pull.
The bear, lurching half-blindly, had reeled out into the open, belowthe knoll. There, panting and grunting, he turned to blink at theoncoming fire and to get his direction. For perhaps a half-minute hestood thus; or made little futile rushes from side to side. And thisbreathing space was taken up by Lad in the gnawing of the rope.
Then, while the collie was still toiling over the hempen mouthfuls, thebear seemed to recover his own wonted cleverness; and to realize hiswhereabouts. Straight up the hillock he charged, toward the lean-to;his splay feet dislodging innumerable surface stones from the rockysteep; and sending them behind him in a series of tiny avalanches.
Lad, one eye ever on his foe, saw the onrush. Fiercely he redoubled hisefforts to bite through the rope, before the bear should be upon him.But the task was not one to be achieved in a handful of seconds.
Moving with a swiftness amazing for an animal of his clumsy bulk, thebear swarmed up the hillock. He gained the summit; not three yards fromwhere Laddie struggled. And the collie knew the rope was not more thanhalf gnawed through. There was no further time for biting at it. Theenemy was upon him.
Fear did not enter the big dog's soul. Yet he grieved that thedeath-battle should find him so pitifully ill-prepared. And, abandoningthe work of self-release, he flung himself ragingly at the advancingbear.
Then, two things happened. Two things, on neither of which the dogcould have counted. The bear was within a hand's breadth of him; andwas still charging, headlong. But he looked neither to right nor toleft. Seemingly ignorant of Lad's presence, the huge brute tore pasthim, almost grazing the collie in his insane rush; and sped straight ontoward the lake beyond.
That was one of the two unforeseen happenings. The other was thesnapping of the rotted rope, under the wrench of Lad's furious leap.
Free, and with the severed rope's loop still dangling uselessly fromaround his shaggy throat, the dog stood staring in blank amaze afterhis former adversary. He saw the bear reach the margin of the icy lakeand plunge nose deep into its sheltering waters. Here, as Bruin'sinstinct or experience had foretold, no forest fire could harm him. Heneed but wallow there until the Red Terror should have swept past anduntil the scorched ground should be once more cool enough to walk on.
Lad turned again toward the slope. He was free, now, to follow thewagon track to the main road and so homeward, guided perhaps by memory,perhaps by scent; most probably guided by the mystic sixth sense whichhas more than once enabled collies to find their way, over hundreds ofmiles of strange territory, back to their homes.
But, in the past few minutes, the fire's serpent-like course had takena new twist. It had flung volleys of sparks across the upper reach ofgranite rock-wall, and had ignited dry wood and brier on the right handside of the track. This, far up the mountain, almost at the very footof the rock-hillock.
The way to home was barred by a three-foot-high crackling fence ofred-gold flame; a flame which nosed hungrily against the barren rocksof the knoll-foot; as if seeking in ravenous famine the fuel their baresurfaces denied it.
And now, the side of the hillock showed other signs of forest life. Upthe steep slope thundered a six-antlered buck, snorting shrilly inpanic and flying toward the cool refuge of the little lake.
Far more slowly, but with every tired muscle astrain, a fat porcupinewas mounting the hill; its claws digging frantically for foothold amongthe slippery stones. It seemed to flow, rather than to run. And as ithurried on, it chuckled and scolded, like some idiot child.
A bevy of squirrels scampered past it. A long snake, roused from itsstony winter lair, writhed eerily up the slope, heedless of its fellowtravelers' existence. A raccoon was breasting the steep, from anotherangle. And behind it came clawing a round-paunched opossum; grinningfrom the pain of sparks that were stinging it to a hated activity.
The wilderness was giving up its secrets, with a vengeance. And the RedTerror, as ever, was enforcing a truce among the forest-folk; a trucebred of stark fear. One and all--of those that had been aroused in timeto get clear of the oncoming fiery sickle--the fugitives were makingfor the cool safety of the lake.
Lad scarce saw or noted any of his companions. The road to home wasbarred. And, again, ancestral instinct and his own alert wit came tohis aid. Turning about, and with no hint of fear in his gait or in thesteady dark eyes, he trotted toward the lake.
Already the bear had reached its soothing refuge; and was standing hipdeep in the black waters; now and then ducking his head and tossingshowers of cold spray over his scorc
hed shoulder-fur.
Lad trotted to the brink. There, stooping--not fifty feet away fromBruin--he lapped thirstily until he had at last drunk his fill. Then,looking back once in the direction of the fire-line, he lay down, verydaintily indeed, in shallow water; and prepared to enjoy his liberty.Scourged by none of the hideous fear which had goaded his fellowfugitives, he watched with grave interest the arrival of one afteranother of the refugees; as they came scurrying wildly down to thewater.
Lad was comfortable. Here, the smoke-reek stung less acutely. Here,too, were grateful darkness, after the torrid glare of the fire, andcold water and security. Here were also many diverting creatures towatch. It would have been pleasant to go home at once. But, since thatwas out of the question, there were far worse things than to lieinterestedly at ease until the Master should come for him.
The fire raged and flickered along the base of the bare rocky knoll;and, finding no path of advance, turned back on itself, fire-fashion;seeking new outlet. The thin line of bushes and other undergrowth atthe hillock's foot were quickly consumed; leaving only a broad bed ofember and spark. And the conflagration swept on to the left, over theonly course open to it. To the right, the multiple ridges of rock andthe dearth of vegetation were sufficient "No Thoroughfare" enforcement.
This same odd rock-formation had kept the wagon track clear, up to thetwist where it bore to leftward at the base of the knoll. And theMistress and the Master were able to guide their rattlingly protestingcar in safety up the trail from the main road far below. The set of thewind prevented them from being blinded or confused by smoke. Apart froma smarting of the eyes and a recurrent series of heat waves, they madethe climb with no great discomfort;--until the final turn brought themto an abrupt halt at the spot where the wide swath of red coals andflaming ashes marked the burning of the hillock foot bushes.
The Master jumped to earth and stood confronting the lurid stretch ofash and ember with, here and there, a bush stump still cracklingmerrily. It was not a safe barrier to cross; this twenty-foot-widefiery stretch. Nor, for many rods in either direction, was there anyway around it.
"There's one comfort," the Master was saying, as he began to explorefor an opening in the red scarf of coals, "the fire hasn't gotten up tothe camp-site. He--"
"But the smoke has," said the Mistress, who had been peering vainlythrough the hazecurtain toward the summit. "And so has the heat. Ifonly--"
She broke off, with a catch in her sweet voice. And, scarce realizingwhat she did, she put the silver whistle to her lips and blew apiercingly loud blast.
"What's that for?" asked the Master, crankily, worry over his beloveddog making his nerves raw. "If Lad's alive, he's fastened there. Yousay you saw him struggling to get loose, this morning. He can't come,when he hears that whistle. There's no sense in--How in blue blazes heever got fastened there,--if he really was,--is more than I can--"
"Hush!" begged the Mistress, breaking in on his grumbled monologue."Listen!"
Out of the darkness, beyond the knoll-top, came the sound of abark,--the clear trumpeting welcome-bark which Lad reserved for theMistress and the Master, alone; on their return from any absence.
Through the night it echoed, gaily, defiantly; again and again; ringingout above the obscene hiss and crackle and roar of the forest-fire. Andat every repetition, it was nearer and nearer the dumfounded listenersat the knoll foot.
"It's--it's Laddie!" cried the Mistress, in wondering rapture. "Oh,it's LADDIE!"
The Master, hearing the glad racket, did a thoroughly asinine thing.Drawing in his breath and holding his coat in front of him, he preparedto make a dash through the wide smear of embers, to the hilltop; where,presumably, Lad was still tied. But, before he could take the firststep, the Mistress stayed him.
"Look!" she cried, pointing to the hither side of the knoll; lividlybright in the ember-glow.
Down the steep was galloping at breakneck speed a great, tawny shape.Barking rapturously,--even as he had barked when first the whistle'sblast had roused him from his lazy repose in the lakesideshallows,--Lad came whizzing toward the two humans who watched soincredulously his wild approach.
The Master, belatedly, saw that the collie could not avoid crashinginto the spread of embers; and he opened his mouth to order Lad back.But there was not time.
For once, the wise dog took no heed of even the simplest caution. Hislost and adored deities had called him and were awaiting him. That wasall Lad knew or cared. They had come back for him. His horrible vigiland loneliness and his deadly peril were ended.
Too insanely happy to note where he was treading, he sprang into thevery center of the belt of smoldering coals. His tiny whiteforefeet--drenched with icy water--did not remain among them longenough to feel pain. In two more bounds he had cleared the barrier andwas dancing in crazy excitement around the Mistress and the Master;patting at them with his scorched feet; licking their eagerly caressinghands; "talking" in a dozen different keys of rapture, his whimpers andgrowls and gurgles running the entire gamut of long-pent-up emotions.
His coat and his feet had, for hours, been immersed in the cold waterof the lake. And, he had fled through the embers at express-trainspeed. Scarce a blister marked the hazardous passage. But Lad would nothave cared for all the blisters and burns on earth. His dear gods hadcome back to him,--even as he had known they would!
Once more,--and for the thousandth time--they had justified his divineFaith in them. Nothing else mattered.
Further Adventures of Lad Page 8
