Part 30 (1/2)

”Glad it was that which made the poor brute silent. I thought he had turned useless through his not giving the alarm.”

”Can't we do something, uncle?” I cried.

”I'm thinking, Cob,” he replied, ”it's not an easy thing to give dogs antidotes, and besides we don't know what he has taken. Must be some narcotic though. I know what we'll do. Here, carry him down to the dam.”

A number of the workmen were looking on stolidly and whispering to one another as if interested in what we were going to do about the dog.

Some were in the yard smoking, some on the stairs, and every man's hands were deep in his pockets.

”Say,” shouted a voice as I carried the dog out into the yard, following Uncle Bob while the men made room for us, ”they're a goin' to drown bull-p.o.o.p.”

I hurried on after my uncle and heard a trampling of feet behind me, but I took no notice, only as I reached the dam there was quite a little crowd closing in.

”Wayert a minute, mester,” said one of the grinders. ”I'll get 'ee bit o' iron and a bit o' band to tie round p.o.o.p's neck.”

For answer, Uncle Bob took the dog by his collar and hind-legs, and kneeling down on the stone edge of the dam plunged him head-first into the water, drew him out, and plunged him in again twice.

”Yow can't drownd him like that,” cried one.

”He's dowsing on him to bring him round,” said another; and then, as Uncle Bob laid the dog down and stood up to watch him, there was a burst of laughter in the little crowd, for all our men were collected now.

”Yes, laugh away, you cowardly hounds,” said Uncle Bob indignantly, and I looked at him wonderingly, for he had always before seemed to be so quiet and good-tempered a fellow. ”It's a pity, I suppose, that you did not kill the dog right out the same as, but for a lucky accident, you might have poisoned this boy here.”

”Who poisoned lad?” said a grinder whom I had seen insolent more than once.

”I don't know,” cried Uncle Bob; ”but I know it was done by the man or men who stole those bands last night; and I know that it was done by someone in these works, and that you nearly all of you know who it was.”

There was a low growl here.

”And a nice cowardly contemptible trick it was!” cried Uncle Bob, standing up taller than any man there, and with his eyes flas.h.i.+ng. ”I always thought Englishmen were plucky, straightforward fellows, above such blackguards' tricks as these. Workmen! Why, the scoundrels who did this are unworthy of the name.”

There was another menacing growl here.

”Too cowardly to fight men openly, they come in the night and strike at boys, and dogs, and steal.”

”Yow lookye here,” said the big grinder, taking off his jacket and baring his strong arms; ”yow called me a coward, did you?”

”Yes, and any of you who know who did this coward's trick,” cried Uncle Bob angrily.

”Then tek that!” cried the man, striking at him full in the face.

I saw Uncle Bob catch the blow on his right arm, dart out his left and strike the big grinder in the mouth; and then, before he could recover himself, my uncle's right fist flashed through the air like lightning, and the man staggered and then fell with a dull thud, the back of his head striking the stones.

There was a loud yell at this, and a chorus rose:

”In wi' 'em. Throost 'em i' th' dam,” shouted a voice, and half a dozen men advanced menacingly; but Uncle Bob stood firm, and just then Fannell the smith strode before them.

”Howd hard theer,” he cried in his shrill voice. ”Six to one, and him one o' the mesters.”

Just then Uncles Jack and d.i.c.k strode in through the gates, saw the situation at a glance, and ran to strengthen our side.

”What's this?” roared Uncle d.i.c.k furiously, as Uncle Jack clenched his fists and looked round, as it seemed to me, for some one to knock down.