"OLD BELLE."

Auckland Star, Volume LXII, Issue 150, 27 June 1931, Page 1 (Supplement)

"OLD BELLE."

A SHEEP DOG'S SERVICE. HER MASTER'S DIFFICULTY. (By M.J.8.) , * So little sun there is these days, that old Belle is hard put to it to. find a warm corner by the stable wall in which to dream 'dreame of her radiant youth. She looks up with, the same intense, intelligence when you stand before her— but. she has not heard your step. She comes as far as /the gate to y welcome Ted when he nas" been away, but for the rest, she-is content to share the puppies' porridge.. and. milk, but not the warm spots when the.sun glints through. She can still cuff an overbold puppy. Belle is 12, but the life of a hard-working sheep dog rarely exceeds this. ..; Not easily can a man put.a bullet in:his own old horse,, or dog,, so outback these faithful pensioners go many years' before the last post sounds' for them. Four years ago on Just: such a winter's night as this, Miln and Eringa, the two Maori maids at' the homestead; from force of habit, stoked up a huge fire on leaving for the night. Passing through the kitchen for an extra back log, Ted reprimanded Mihi sharply for the waste of fuel in the empty room. He promptly forgot the matter and..; shortly afterwards their laughing voices floated up, as they went down the -path to the whare. ,' '■''.■- \-

A Previous Warning. Since-the big sheep ' worry in. 1925, and our calamitous disregard of Belle's warning,' we have not taken casually Belle's night calls, so that when we were reading round the great fire of logs in the sitting roomi we all looked up sharply . as Belle's short yelp broke through, the quiet room. She had come up from the stable on just such a night to summon help for the poor driven sheep—everyone recalled it. "Sheep worrying, curs from the pa," muttered Ted, as he and Bill rose from their chairs. Taking a gun apiece, they slipped down a zig-zag path to the road, hoping to catch any worriers red-handed. Belle soon scented them and joined up, but, strangely enough, she seemed loth to go on and kept facing back to the house. "Silly old Belle," muttered; Ted._ "Show us, old girl." She twisted from his hand and'ran back a few yards, again heading to the house. "Perhaps one of her pups has followed her. up there," suggested Bill. "I'm hanged if I know what's the matter with her tonight," answered Ted. The two men went on down the hill keeping under cover until-they reached the big flats, where the stud sheep were grazing. Not a sign • of disturbance;. not a sign.. of * Belle either!/ To jnake sure=they went

round the shoulder of the far hill and gazed down on the dusky quietness of hillsides and. flats. . An owl .fluttered softly across and a few small birds twit; tered sleepily. *•;'"/' v ' '"''&.' "The old rascal has played a trick on' US to-night, Ted," growled Bill, thinking of his armchair with an Edgar Wallace, thriller pushed under.its arih. "She has never behaved quite like this, clearing off^—hullo, old girl, found your pup or whatever it was?", laughed Ted, as she pushed her muzzle into, his hand. ■ '■■■ •' ■ . " ... ■ Bill turned at the zig-zag, but Ted ; hesitated. Belle was so plainly. urging him >up the'hill to the back of the house. ■ •-'- ; V ' "I think I'll go on with her "and see what bee she's, got in her. bonnet this time.": •' Belle, 'satisfied at last, ran l ' con-; tentediy up the hill, giving a low growl as she reached the to hair bristled along, her .back and■'/ neck, and ' she snarled ■ angrily. - ■ ',-•;.•. What Might Have .Been. . .', "Some Maori dog about," Ted surmised.' "You old devil, Belle, getting me. out to fight your battles or settle your love affairs,'' he. laughed, but he patted her head. : She crouched-, lower, shaking. -Ted-bent down to get her line of vision—a bright red glow showed under the kitchen.

."Good God!".gasped. Ted,-as he sprang across the yard.. "' " f Just by .the kitchen door, where the foundation is, high., and not boarded, were three burning clumps of manuka stove - wood, right beside a : totara house block, while against the latter was a goodly'pile of dry black logs stored for winter; overhead, upstairs, were the children's rooms. Frightened by the scolding, the Maori girls had pulled out the blazing blocks and thrust them under the house as they left, thinking—if.'.'they thought at aIW-that they would soon die out. Ted, white and shaking, told of the evening's tramp and of Belle's strange behaviour. Each of us . thought of. the hold a fire ..started thus . might have gained, ere we had known the danger. ...' "Where's Belle now?" I.wondered, and thought of the inadequacy of any gift I might make her. With the leg of mutton . left over from dinner I called her, "Belle, old girl." . The charred sticks of wood lay;out in the vard. A stiff breeze had sprung up. I 'looked about for ..more than an insignificant little dog with amazingly intelligent eyes, for. Belle, was bigger that night than most humans. She had gone back to the stables. One by one the lights winked out and the cold night wind "whined round the corner of the house. . How did Belle .know of the fire? How did she know it was wrong for a fire to be there? Can one wonder that Ted cannot fact" Belle with a gun, to have those faithful eyes'.turn;on him in terror for the first and-last ,tiine*iu'her Jfc>? ~"