Part 7 (1/2)

”I'm going to,” ses Ginger. ”That chap knows something about dogs, and, if we can't get a reward for 'im, p'r'aps we can sell 'im.”

They 'ad another arf-pint each, and then, Ginger taking 'old of the string, they went out into the street.

”Nine o'clock,” ses Peter. ”It's no good going 'ome yet, Ginger.”

”We can 'ave a gla.s.s or two on the way,” ses Ginger; ”but I sha'n't feel comfortable in my mind till we've got the dog safe 'ome. P'r'aps the people wot 'ave lost it are looking for it now.”

They 'ad another drink farther on, and a man in the bar took such a fancy to the dog that 'e offered Ginger five s.h.i.+llings for it and drinks round.

”That shows 'ow valuable it is,” ses Peter Russet when they got outside.

”Hold that string tight, Ginger. Wot's the matter?”

”He won't come,” ses Ginger, tugging at the string. ”Come on, old chap!

Good dog! Come on!”

He stood there pulling at the dog, wot was sitting down and being dragged along on its stummick. He didn't know its name, but 'e called it a few things that seemed to ease 'is mind, and then he 'anded over the string to Sam, wot 'ad been asking for it, and told 'im to see wot he could do.

”We shall 'ave a crowd round us in a minute,” ses Peter. ”Mind you don't bust a blood-vessel, Sam.”

”And be locked up for stealing it, p'r'aps,” ses Ginger. ”Better let it go, Sam.”

”Wot, arter refusing five bob for it?” ses Sam. ”Talk sense, Ginger, and give it a shove be'ind.”

Ginger gave it a shove, but it was no good. There was three or four people coming along the road, and Sam made up 'is mind in an instant, and 'eld up his 'and to a cab that was pa.s.sing.

It took the three of 'em to get the dog into the cab, and as soon as it was in the cabman told 'em to take it out agin. They argufied with 'im till their tongues ached, and at last, arter paying 'im four s.h.i.+llings and sixpence afore they started, he climbed up on the box and drove off.

The door was open when they got to their lodgings, but they 'ad to be careful because o' the landlady. It took the three of 'em to pull and push that dog upstairs, and Ginger took a dislike to dogs that 'e never really got over. They got 'im in the bedroom at last, and, arter they 'ad given 'im a drink o' water out o' the wash-hand basin, Ginger and Peter started to find fault with Sam Small.

”I know wot I'm about,” ses Sam; ”but, o' course, if you don't want your share, say so. Wot?”

”Talk sense!” ses Ginger. ”We paid our share o' the cab, didn't we? And more fools us.”

”There won't be no share,” ses Peter Russet; ”but if there is, we're going to'ave it.”

They undressed themselves and got into bed, and Ginger 'adn't been in his five minutes afore the dog started to get in with 'im. When Ginger pushed 'im off 'e seemed to think he was having a game with 'im, and, arter pretending to bite 'im in play, he took the end of the counterpane in 'is mouth and tried to drag it off.

”Why don't you get to sleep, Ginger?” ses Sam, who was just dropping off. ”'Ave a game with 'im in the morning.”

Ginger gave the dog a punch in the chest, and, arter saying a few o' the things he'd like to do to Sam Small, he cuddled down in 'is bed and they all went off to sleep. All but the dog, that is. He seemed uneasy in 'is mind, and if 'e woke 'em up once by standing on his 'ind-legs and putting his fore-paws on their chest to see if they was still alive, he did arf-a-dozen times.

He dropped off to sleep at last, scratching 'imself, but about three o'clock in the morning Ginger woke up with a 'orrible start and sat up in bed s.h.i.+vering. Sam and Peter woke up, too, and, raising themselves in bed, looked at the dog, wot was sitting on its tail, with its 'ead back, moaning fit to break its 'art.

”Wot's the matter?” ses old Sam, in a shaky voice. ”Stop it! Stop it, d'ye hear!”

”P'r'aps it's dying,” ses Ginger, as the dog let off a 'owl like a steamer coming up the river. ”Stop it, you brute!”

”He'll wake the 'ouse up in a minute,” ses Peter. ”Take 'im downstairs and kick 'im into the street, Sam.”

”Take 'im yourself,” ses Sam. ”Hs.h.!.+ Somebody's coming upstairs. Poor old doggie. Come along, then. Come along.”