Part 6 (1/2)

”Sweerin' will no find him,” said the Master coldly. ”Noo, Sam'l.”

The big man s.h.i.+fted his feet, and looked mournfully at M'Adam.

”'Twas 'appen 'aif an hour agone, when I sees oor Bob goin' oot o'

yard wi' little yaller tyke in his mouth. In a minnit I looks agin--and theer! little yaller 'un was gone, and oor Bob a-sittin' a-lickin'

his chops. Gone foriver, I do reck'n. Ah, yo' may well take on, Tammas Thornton!” For the old man was rolling about the yard, bent double with merriment.

M'Adam turned on the Master with the resignation of despair.

”Man, Moore,” he cried piteously, ”it's yer gray dog has murdered ma wee Wull! Ye have it from yer ain man.”

”Nonsense,” said the Master encouragingly. ”'Tis but yon girt oof.”

Sam'l tossed his head and snorted.

”Coom, then, and i'll show yo',” he said, and led the way out of the yard. And there below them on the slope to the stream, sitting like Justice at the Courts of Law, was Owd Bob.

Straightway Sam'l whose humor was something of the calibre of old Ross's, the s.e.xton, burst into horse-merriment. ”Why's he sittin' so still, think 'ee? Ho! Ho! See un lickin' his chops--ha! ha!”--and he roared afresh. While from afar you could hear the distant rumbling of 'Enry and oor Job.

At the sight, M'Adam burst into a storm of pa.s.sionate invective, and would have rushed on the dog had not James Moore forcibly restrained him.

”Bob, lad,” called the Master, ”coom here!”

But even as he spoke, the gray dog c.o.c.ked his ears, listened a moment, and then shot down the slope. At the same moment Tammas hallooed: ”Theer he be! yon's yaller un coomin' oot o' drain! La, Sam'l!” And there, indeed, on the slope below them, a little angry, s.m.u.tty-faced figure was crawling out of a rabbit-burrow.

”Ye murderin' devil, wad ye duar touch ma Wullie?” yelled M'Adam, and, breaking away, pursued hotly down the hill; for the gray dog had picked up the puppy, like a lancer a tent-peg, and was sweeping on, his captive in his mouth, toward the stream.

Behind, hurried James Moore and Sam'l, wondering what the issue of the comedy would be. After them toddled old Tammas, chuckling. While over the yard-wall was now a little cl.u.s.ter of heads: 'Enry, oor Job, Maggie and David, and Vi'let Thornton, the dairy-maid.

Straight on to the plank-bridge galloped Owd Bob. In the middle he halted, leant over, and dropped his prisoner; who fell with a cool plop into the running water beneath.

Another moment and M'Adam had reached the bank of the stream. In he plunged, splas.h.i.+ng and cursing, and seized the struggling puppy; then waded back, the waters surging about his waist, and Red Wull, limp as a wet rag, in his hand. The little man's hair was dripping, for his cap was gone; his clothes clung to him, exposing the miserableness of his figure; and his eyes blazed like hot ashes in his wet face.

He sprang on to the bank, and, beside himself with pa.s.sion, rushed at Owd Bob.

”Curse ye for a ----”

”Stan' back, or yo'll have him at your throat!” shouted the Master, thundering up. ”Stan' back, I say, yo' fule!” And, as the little man still came madly on, he reached forth his hand and hurled him back; at the same moment, bending, he buried the other hand deep in Owd Bob's s.h.a.ggy neck. It was but just in time; for if ever the fierce desire of battle gleamed in gray eyes, it did in the young dog's as M'Adam came down on him.

The little man staggered, tottered, and fell heavily. At the shock, the blood gushed from his nose, and, mixing with the water on his face, ran down in vague red streams, dripping off his chin; while Red Wull, jerked from his grasp, was thrown afar, and lay motionless.

”Curse ye!” M'Adam screamed, his face dead-white save for the running red about his jaw. ”Curse ye for a cowardly Englishman!” and, struggling to his feet, he made at the Master.

But Sam'l interposed his great bulk between the two.

”Easy, little mon,” he said leisurely, regarding the small fury before him with mournful interest. ”Eh, but thee do be a little spit-cat, surely!”

James Moore stood, breathing deep, his hand still buried in Owd Bob's coat.