A PERFECT GUARD.

Oamaru Mail, Volume XXXV, Issue 10016, 5 December 1908, Page 2 (Supplement)

A PERFECT GUARD.

(By R. E. Yernerde.)

Everybody said we ought to haye a powerful watchdog owing to the isolated position of our house. The house is undoubtedly lonely. It stands on a hill .n the middle of farmland, half a mile from a main road ; and though that means a walk for a burglar, and not much to "bum-le when he gets there, still it is pleasarit to know that any burglar who does turn up would only enter over the body of a faithful and powerful dog. We decided to have such a dog, and after looking through many advertisements were attracted by the following:— "To Anyone Requiring Protection— Cross bred bull - mastiff - boarhound. Weighs hundred and forty pounds. Stands 34 inches'. A perfect guard. Demon terror to burglars. Given away for three nounds owing to room being required. Preference to wires.—MacTavish. Night kennels. ■ Sunderland." "A perfect guard," said my wife, 'is what we want." Let us wire MacTavish." We did so, and, I suppose, received preferential treatment, MacTavish sendinrr a postcard to say that on receipt of a "cheque a dog would be forwarded -er passenger train. It was. he added, too cheap to be sent on approval. "I don't like that," I said to my wife. "There is something suspicious about not letting us have him on'approval." ~ ~ "Oh, I don't know,' replied Gelia, cheerfully. "Youi see, MacTavish frankly savs it is because the dog is so cheap." "When Scotchmen are frank," I retorted, "Englishmen need to be canny." "But you never could be even if you tried," said Celia, with that love of parading a truism common to her sex. I wrote the cheque in silence. "Don't blame me if the creature turns out an aged, toothless hound, blind in one eve." "Even if he is," said Celia, "the ourglare would not realise it in the nighttime. And his great size would terrify them." "If it were as dark as that, I suggested, "they might not realise his size/' "Well, they would hear his growl then," said Celia. '"Don't be so' logical. • Two days later, as we were sitting at luncheon, the maid came in to say that the dog had arrived on the station cart. She seemed a little excited as she handed me the railway company's charge"Ail right," I said, "tell the nian to tie him up fn the yard and we'll come and inspect him presently. Here's the monev." "If" you please, sir," said Susan, 'the dog's in a crate, and the man don't care to let him out." "Why not?" asked Celia. "It seems a savage-like sort of dog, ma'am." said Susan. "Nonsense," I said. "You would be savage yourself, Susan, if you had been penned up in a crate for twenty-four Hours. I suppose l shall have to go and see to him myself." "I'll come with you," said Celia. We found the railway carter having a class of beer in the kitchen, as is the custom in our part. He finished it hastily, and said to me : "You ain't going to let that do - out for a bit, are you, sir?" "Yes, I said, "I am." "Then I'll get back on my cart," he said. "He seems a bit too hungry for me." "You; don't mean to say you're afraid of a dog, do you?" I asked. "I've no doubt the poor creature is hungry. Susan, bring some bones." "Do be careful, John," said Celia : and she and Susan and the carter all followed me into the yard, where the latter promptly climbed into his cart. "You'll give me a fair start, sir?" he said, and whipped up his horse as I approached the crate. A low, deep growl, which' would compare well with any organ I have heard, caused me to step back a pace and Susan to drop the plate of bones. "He certainly ought to be a terror to burglars," I said, as I regarded the resounding creature's vast proportions. Exactly which part of him was bull and which mastiff which boarhound was difficult to tell, but he certainly was a magnificent dog. He was so superßly built that seeing"Stevens, our gardener, coming back from his dinner, I thought it would be as well to wait for his assistance before opening the crate. "A couple of men can do this sort of thing more easily than one," I explained to Celia. - "^ As Stevens showed no signs of coming nearer, and the dog, disturbed, no doubt, by the sight of the bones which he could not reach! 6emed to be working himself into a perfect fury, I had to send Susan to fetch Stevens. He came vacillatingly. "The dog has arrived, you see," I said, "and we are iust going to let him out." "Are you, sir':" said Stevens in a noncommittal tone. "Yes." I said, and to encourage him again, I added that the dog ought to be a-terror to burglars. "Do you think sir," said Stevens, "that he'll be able to tell burglars from them as is not burglars." "What do vou mean?" I asked. "He looks a powerful sort of dog," said Stevens suggestively. "That," T said', "is whv we bought him." "Y"essir. On approval, sir?" "No," I said shortly, 'for good and all." "The man we bought him from, Stevens," explained my wife, "said- he was too cheap to be sent on approval." "He knowed what he was about, mum," said Stevens. •'Look here," I said, thoroughly irritated. "While you are all talking, this unfortunate dog, which has been imprisoned for days, is simply getting enraged. It is natural that he should. I propose to ret him out to have those bones." "Yesshy said Stevens, brisking up; "should I go on pricking out those cabbages?" "After you have helped me to open the crate," I replied. I suppose I looked firmer than I felt, for Stevens did not attempt any further prevarication. It was Celia who. observing that Susan had put her apron over her eyes, remarked, "Would it not be safer to let the dog gnaw through the wood?" "He is not a rodent, my dear(" I said. "He seems to have begun, though," said Celia. "Look!" Stevens and I both went forward to look, and both recoiled simultaneously. The animal had undoubtedly begun to chaw vigorously at one of the thin wooden bars of the crate, accompanying this performance with a low, unmusical noise that distinctly grated on the nerves. "Perhaps we had better go and get a hammer," I said, irresolutely. Celia and Susan had already vanished through the vard gate into the kitchen. "Shall I get it for you, sir, while you stop here?" said Stevens officiously. I did not reply, but walked with dignity through the gate, Stevens following, to the kitchen door. Susan had the hammer ready. 'Here it is, sir." she said. "Thank you. Susan," I replied. "I I think we'll have the chisel, too." As I waited for it the sounds of gnawing which had been going on steadily, ceased. There followed a pouncing sound and a series of deep-chested roars. "Ah. he've got out," said Stevens. I went to the yard gate, which is i prety high one, and looked over. It was as Stevens had said. The creature had got out, and' after a mighty Etretch

or two had flung himself upon the bones. Decidely he was a grand specimen ; . and ■ the way he crunched the bones was almost terrifying. Indeed, even while I watched, they vanished like so much , grass, and the dog rose and gave a glance round. I may have bobbed slightly behind the gate, or I may not, but I know that the next time I ■■' looked down he was on his haunches again tearing at one of the very fine buff Orpingtons that are kept in the yard. "This will never do," I cried to Celia. •'He's got one of your hens." "Oh. stop him,"' she cried. "All right," I Baid. "Shoo! Shoo! Drop it, bad dog! Drop it!" I might as well have spoken to a tiger for all the attention I received. In fact, he snarled at me exactly like a tiger. "Is he still eating it?" said my wife. "Yes'm," said Stevens, who had also come to the gate to look. "Shall I go out to him?" I said, looking round for support. "Dont't!" Celia replied instantly. He'll kill you " ■ ,; "As soon as look at you," said Stevens. "I believe he would," I 6aid, with conviction ; and then we all stood and looked at one another in silence, while the Jow sucking snarl went on. "What is to be done?" I asked, as presently a flapping of wings and ecreaming too plainly showed that he had begun on another hen. "He may finish the lot off " "Mebbe he'll tire of it when he's had enough?" said Stevens; and this, in fact, proved to be the ca.se. Four buff Orpingtons and.thedish of bones seemed to satisfy his cravings ; and after that he wandered out of the yard leisurely, as though to seek some comfortable resting-place. We lost sight of him a. minute later, and my wife expressed the hope that he had run away and would not come back. "We shan't have any such luck," I said gloomily. ' "That dog will know when he ha 6 found a good home." _ . "If we only could get him on a chain —" "If," I repeated. "He's probably in the garden now. By the way, Stevens, you were going to prick out the cabbages, weren't you ?" "I'd sooner get on with the 'mums, sir," said Stevens. "You see, sir, I can git into the conservatory by way of the 'ouse." "As'you"please," I said; and my wife and I retired to the drawing-room, .'which looks out on the greater part of the garden, including the front gate and the ten-nis-lawn. It was the sight of the latter which moved my wife to' say suddenly : "Good gracious! I'd forgotten. It's this afternoon that people are coming for tennis. And I particularly said, 'Come early.' What are we to do, John?" "I don't know," I said. "It isn't fair to let them come with that dreadful creature wandering about loose." "He may not attack them," I said. "After all, it's only a dog, you know." "Don't be so inhuman!" "Shall I stand at the gate and warn them to abandon hope as they enter?" I asked, endeavoring to affect a hilarity I did not feel. "You ought to. If anyone were killed " It was exactly in the middle of that sentence that we heard the front gate click ; and it was less than a moment after (so that I xeally had not had time to think of a plan of action) that we saw Archi- ; ■ bald Hankin, the curate, appear through it, wheeling his bicycle. .In what again seemed less than a second the dog. which had been reposing unseen in the middls of one of the flower-beds, rose and growled. He did not move toward Hankin, and Hankin did not "move toward him. They simply stood facing each other for an appreciable length of time. Then Hankin, who is a lover of animals and a member of the S.P.C.A., said, "Good dog, good dog '" just th.it—in a wheedling voice. There is really nothing to* object to in Hankin's voice"; it has not even the clerical quality in it. On the contrary, it is a pleasant, brisk, baritone voice. But the dog did not like it. With a roar that would have drowned a brass band, he made for Hankin. My wife declared that she shut her eyes, expecting to see him crushed up like the buff Orpingtons. I kept mine open because it seemed more manly. I saw Hankin take one glance at thfegate, and one at a small arbor, or shed, with a door to it that lay to the right. The shed was slightly nearer than the gate. He must have seen that in an instant, for almost as the dog began his spring,'he dropped his bicycle and dived for it. He got in just- so' much ahead that the dog's teeth gnashed the closing door. He must have had rather a shock, for quite an interval elapsed before he called.out "Barker!" and his voice was distinctly shaky. "Yes?" x shouted back. "There's a brute of a dog here," lis said, "that came for me. He's outside this shed now, I fancy." "Yes, I can see him," I said. "He's a powerful-looking dog." "Y'ou mi<jht call him off then '•' "No food, m y dear fellow," I responded. "Eh?" "He wouldn't come." I explained the nature of the dog, so far as I knew it, in a few well-chosen shouts, dwelling particularly on the fact that we had only just found him out : and when Hankin inquired from his shelter what I expected him to do. "Stay there," I said. "For how long?" "Well, I can hardly say," I replied. "You see how things are— —" "Yes, I see that," said Hankin. "But hang it all, man, Tve a service at seven ; and you've got other people coming to tennis, haven't you? You're not going to let them come in and be eaten?" "That's it," I said. "I thought if you wouldn't- mind stopping there, you're so much nearer the gate than I can get that you could see the people as they come along, and warn them what's up. Of course, they mustn't think of coming in and playing.". This appeal to the altruistic side of Hankin. who is a very good-natured fellow, stopped for the time being the querulous note that had crept into his voice. "All right," I will," he said. "Only remember I've got a service at seven, won't yon?" I promised to keep this in mind, if it would give Hankin any satisfaction, and Celia thanked him in a fluty voice that carried well. Then for an hour or more we sat in the drawing-room window, and listened while Hankin explained to people as they came along the- road that thev had better go back again owing to a wild dog being at large. Poor Hankin ! I did not envy him. The arbor is a musty, dusty place, and on thathot afternoon could not but have been verv trying. The need, too, of shouting animatedly through the narrow slit that served as a. window must have put a considerable strain on the vocal chords, especially as our guests wouldn't go away without the fullest explanations, and seemed doubtful then whether the whole thing wasn't a- joke. -We could hear them laughing and chatting and Hankin earnestly exhorting them, and the clog, which had stretched himself sphinx-like just outside the arbor door, occasionally letting off a cyclonic growl.' It was the sound of the latter which chiefly persuaded people to go away. Dr Jenkinson, a sceptical man''but keen on tennis, heard it only after frankly expressing his opinion that the whole thing was nonsense. The click of the gate, however, caught the' ears of our perfect guard, and as his thunder died away, the plut, plut, of Jenkinson's retiring motor-bicycle -sounded quick and sharp. "Why don't you shoot the brute?" was his parting remark, passed on to us by the now woolly voiced Hankin, who added: "I'm almost afraid you'll have to, old man. I've sot a service at seven, you know." "Celia and I will talk it over during tea," I called back. "I wish we could send you out a cup " "Not at all," said Hankin, politely. "Never mind about me." We did not mind about Hankin nearly so much as we minded about the dog. who was upsetting everything in the most unprecedented manner. Stevens had not stirred from the greenhouse. Susan, was absolutely shaky on the legs when she brought in tea. "I'm afraid you will have to shoot him." said Celia regretfully, as she poured out mv second cup. '"Y'ou talk, Celia," I said .irritably, "as though that were a simple matter. Apart from the fact that it is throwing away . three pounds, I have nothing but mv revolver in the house at present, and \ am not much of a shot with a :Tvolve»\ '* shouldn't care to try at_ less than fifteen paces. I should only miss——" "Well, why not try at fifteen paces?"

"Because if I missed, the dog mightn't ""Oh, you musn't then," said Celia. " "Of course, later on we might stalk the creature," I said, "or set a bait for him—tie up a 'buff Orpington under the window, don't you.know, or get Stevens to go cut and wave a red handkerchief, but 1 don't see that at present— Confound Hankin! What's the matter with him now':' The comparative peace of the arbor hi J. just been broken by a series of distracted shouts from Hankin. We ran to tne window. '."The dog can't have got in ?" I said nervously. "No, no, listen "'-. said Celia. "He's calling to somebody." "Go away! Go away! You mustn't come in!" These directions, 'evidently given by Hankin to someone in the road, suddenly changed to a convulsive yell of,"Hi, Barker!" "Yes," we both shouted back. "There's a child coming along—coming in, I think. She doesn't seem to hear.' - - "Has she. got golden curls?" Gelia asked, irrelevantly,■■ as -I "thought. "Y'es," said Hankin. "What'if she'has?": I asked. "It's Kizzie- Green,' said Celia. "She's —she's 'deaf." I don't wish to boast, or suggest that I was doing a courageous thing. I merely mention that on hearing these words spoken in Delia's most tragic voice, I turned, ran to the hall-table, took out and loaded my revolver. Weights seemed attached to my legs during this process. "What are you going to do, John?" Delia asked, terrified,. as I returned.^ "I am .going to shoot that dog," I said. "It is my life or Kizzis Green's—probably both, if I miss." . "Yours is most valuable," said Cblia unheroically. - , "I know it is," I said. "But you won t get everyone to think so if that child is killed. Leave me, Celia !" ' ' She was clinging to me, saying that she would' go, too; but I presently, found myself stepping into the garden alone. ' The scene that followed will ever dwell in my memory —and also, I beleve, in Delia's, and' Hankin's—as the most dramatic we have 'ever .witnessed. It is the;' sort of thing that recurs in dreams. O.noe again I feal myself step out into the garden, I hear the gate click, I see the cnild enter and the .colossal dog prick up its ears and rise. At the. time, lam thankful to say, 'it had its back to ma, thus enabling me to advance without being seen. As I did so, I realised that the door of the arbor was being cautiously opened-, that. Hankin was coming out—had come out. He held a scythe- in his hands, ailso a stone with which to sharpen it, I do not know if he -expected to sharpen the scythe between the- bouts, and l I don't think ha knew either. It was simply the lust of battle. The dog, which had begun to crawl toward the child, stalking her, had its immense back to Hankin as well as to me. It meant to spring.- That, I think, was in the minds of both Hankin and myself, and exchanging a hasty glance, we closed,in upon it . Meanwhile Kizzie Green, a- small gui of about seven, with a basket on her arm, was ocming up the path. I have mentioned her curls. I do not -care for curls, as a rule, but they certainly added :.to the pathos of the scene. So did her innocent blue eyas, which suddenly caught sight of the dog and grew large. It was the critical moment, 'llien—"Oh, you dear dog!" she said,, aid literally flung Herself upon him. . B-efore .Hankin and I, spellbound with -horror, could intervene, she had one arm around his' neck, and' the- stupendous: creature was licking her face. "A little later, following the lucid gestures of Hankin and myself, Kizzie.. led her slave round to the yard, where he submitted to have the chain affixed, to his collar in the most docile possible manner. Since then, Terror, as we have named this admirable mongrel, has led a most peaceful life—no burglars having turned up. If wa hav.s also had fewer other callers, that cannot be consi.dei-sd Terror's fault. Many people are absurdly timid- about large dogs.