CHAPTER VII. TREATING OF AN UNSUCCESSFUL BROKER AND A DOG.
It was a couple of weeks, or thereabouts, after this episode thatEuphemia came down to the gate to meet me on my return from the city.I noticed a very peculiar expression on her face. She looked boththoughtful and pleased. Almost the first words she said to me werethese:
"A tramp came here to-day."
"I am sorry to hear that," I exclaimed. "That's the worst news I havehad yet. I did hope that we were far enough from the line of travel toescape these scourges. How did you get rid of him? Was he impertinent?"
"You must not feel that way about all tramps," said she. "Sometimes theyare deserving of our charity, and ought to be helped. There is a greatdifference in them."
"That may be," I said; "but what of this one? When was he here, and whendid he go?"
"He did not go at all. He is here now."
"Here now!" I cried. "Where is he?"
"Do not call out so loud," said Euphemia, putting her hand on my arm."You will waken him. He is asleep."
"Asleep!" said I. "A tramp? Here?"
"Yes. Stop, let me tell you about him. He told me his story, and it isa sad one. He is a middle-aged man--fifty perhaps--and has been rich.He was once a broker in Wall street, but lost money by the failure ofvarious railroads--the Camden and Amboy, for one."
"That hasn't failed," I interrupted.
"Well then it was the Northern Pacific, or some other one of them--atany rate I know it was either a railroad or a bank,--and he soon becamevery poor. He has a son in Cincinnati, who is a successful merchant, andlives in a fine house, with horses and carriages, and all that; and thispoor man has written to his son, but has never had any answer. So nowhe is going to walk to Cincinnati to see him. He knows he will not beturned away if he can once meet his son, face to face. He was very tiredwhen he stopped here,--and he has ever and ever so far to walk yet, youknow,--and so after I had given him something to eat, I let him lie downin the outer kitchen, on that roll of rag-carpet that is there. I spreadit out for him. It is a hard bed for one who has known comfort, but heseems to sleep soundly."
"Let me see him," said I, and I walked back to the outer kitchen.
There lay the unsuccessful broker fast asleep. His face, which wasturned toward me as I entered, showed that it had been many days sincehe had been shaved, and his hair had apparently been uncombed for aboutthe same length of time. His clothes were very old, and a good dealtorn, and he wore one boot and one shoe.
"Whew!" said I. "Have you been giving him whisky?"
"No," whispered Euphemia, "of course not. I noticed that smell, and hesaid he had been cleaning his clothes with alcohol."
"They needed it, I'm sure," I remarked as I turned away. "And now," saidI, "where's the girl?"
"This is her afternoon out. What is the matter? You look frightened."
"Oh, I'm not frightened, but I find I must go down to the station again.Just run up and put on your bonnet. It will be a nice little walk foryou."
I had been rapidly revolving the matter in my mind. What was I to dowith this wretch who was now asleep in my outer kitchen? If I woke himup and drove him off,--and I might have difficulty in doing it,--therewas every reason to believe that he would not go far, but returnat night and commit some revengeful act. I never saw a moresinister-looking fellow. And he was certainly drunk. He must not beallowed to wander about our neighborhood. I would go for the constableand have him arrested.
So I locked the door from the kitchen into the house and then theoutside door of the kitchen, and when my wife came down we hurried off.On the way I told her what I intended to do, and what I thought ofour guest. She answered scarcely a word, and I hoped that she wasfrightened. I think she was.
The constable, who was also coroner of our township, had gone to acreek, three miles away, to hold an inquest, and there was nobody toarrest the man. The nearest police-station was at Hackingford, six milesaway, on the railroad. I held a consultation with the station-master,and the gentleman who kept the grocery-store opposite.
They could think of nothing to be done except to shoot the man, and tothat I objected.
"However," said I, "he can't stay there;" and a happy thought just thenstriking me, I called to the boy who drove the village express-wagon,and engaged him for a job. The wagon was standing at the station, and tosave time, I got in and rode to my house. Euphemia went over to call onthe groceryman's wife until I returned.
I had determined that the man should be taken away, although, until Iwas riding home, I had not made up my mind where to have him taken. Buton the road I settled this matter.
On reaching the house, we drove into the yard as close to the kitchenas we could go. Then I unlocked the door, and the boy--who was a big,strapping fellow--entered with me. We found the ex-broker still wrappedin the soundest slumber. Leaving the boy to watch him, I went upstairsand got a baggage-tag which I directed to the chief of police at thepolice station in Hackingford. I returned to the kitchen and fastenedthis tag, conspicuously, on the lapel of the sleeper's coat. Then, witha clothes-line, I tied him up carefully, hand and foot. To all this heoffered not the slightest opposition. When he was suitably packed, withdue regard to the probable tenderness of wrist and ankle in one broughtup in luxury, the boy and I carried him to the wagon.
He was a heavy load, and we may have bumped him a little, but his sleepwas not disturbed. Then we drove him to the express office. This was atthe railroad station, and the station-master was also express agent. Atfirst he was not inclined to receive my parcel, but when I assured himthat all sorts of live things were sent by express, and that I could seeno reason for making an exception in this case, he added my argumentsto his own disposition, as a house-holder, to see the goods forwarded totheir destination, and so gave me a receipt, and pasted a label on theex-broker's shoulder. I set no value on the package, which I prepaid.
"Now then," said the station-master, "he'll go all right, if the expressagent on the train will take him."
This matter was soon settled, for, in a few minutes, the train stoppedat the station. My package was wheeled to the express car, and twoporters, who entered heartily into the spirit of the thing, hoisted itinto the car. The train-agent, who just then noticed the character ofthe goods, began to declare that he would not have the fellow in hiscar; but my friend the station-master shouted out that everything wasall right,--the man was properly packed, invoiced and paid for, and thetrain, which was behind time, moved away before the irate agent couldtake measures to get rid of his unwelcome freight.
"Now," said I, "there'll be a drunken man at the police-station inHackingford in about half-an-hour. His offense will be as evident thereas here, and they can do what they please with him. I shall telegraph,to explain the matter and prepare them for his arrival."
When I had done this Euphemia and I went home. The tramp had cost mesome money, but I was well satisfied with my evening's work, and feltthat the township owed me, at least, a vote of thanks.
But I firmly made up my mind that Euphemia should never again be leftunprotected. I would not even trust to a servant who would agree to haveno afternoons out. I would get a dog.
The next day I advertised for a fierce watchdog, and in the course ofa week I got one. Before I procured him I examined into the merits,and price, of about one hundred dogs. My dog was named Pete, but Idetermined to make a change in that respect. He was a very tall, bony,powerful beast, of a dull black color, and with a lower jaw that wouldcrack the hind-leg of an ox, so I was informed. He was of a variedbreed, and the good Irishman of whom I bought him said he had fine bloodin him, and attempted to refer him back to the different classes of dogsfrom which he had been derived. But after I had had him awhile, I madean analysis based on his appearance and character, and concluded that hewas mainly blood-hound, shaded with wolf-dog and mastiff, and picked outwith touches of bull-dog.
The man brought him home for me, and chained him up in an unusedwood-shed, for I had no doghouse as yet.
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"Now thin," said he, "all you've got to do is to keep 'im chained upthere for three or four days till he gets used to ye. An' I'll tell yethe best way to make a dog like ye. Jist give him a good lickin'. Thenhe'll know yer his master, and he'll like ye iver aftherward. There'splenty of people that don't know that. And, by the way, sir, thatchain's none too strong for 'im. I got it when he wasn't mor'n halfgrown. Ye'd bether git him a new one."
When the man had gone, I stood and looked at the dog, and could nothelp hoping that he would learn to like me without the intervention of athrashing. Such harsh methods were not always necessary, I felt sure.
After our evening meal--a combination of dinner and supper, of whichEuphemia used to say that she did not know whether to call it dinper orsupner--we went out together to look at our new guardian.
Euphemia was charmed with him.
"How massive!" she exclaimed. "What splendid limbs! And look at thatimmense head! I know I shall never be afraid now. I feel that that is adog I can rely upon. Make him stand up, please, so I can see how tall heis."
"I think it would be better not to disturb him," I answered, "he maybe tired. He will get up of his own accord very soon. And indeed Ihope that he will not get up until I go to the store and get him a newchain."
As I said this I made a step forward to look at his chain, and at thatinstant a low growl, like the first rumblings of an earthquake, ranthrough the dog.
I stepped back again and walked over to the village for the chain. Thedog-chains shown me at the store all seemed too short and too weak, andI concluded to buy two chains such as used for hitching horses and tojoin them so as to make a long as well as a strong one of them. I wantedhim to be able to come out of the wood-shed when it should be necessaryto show himself.
On my way home with my purchase the thought suddenly struck me, How willyou put that chain on your dog? The memory of the rumbling growl wasstill vivid.
I never put the chain on him. As I approached him with it in my hand, herose to his feet, his eyes sparkled, his black lips drew back from hismighty teeth, he gave one savage bark and sprang at me.
His chain held and I went into the house. That night he broke loose andwent home to his master, who lived fully ten miles away.
When I found in the morning that he was gone I was in doubt whether itwould be better to go and look for him or not. But I concluded to keepup a brave heart, and found him, as I expected, at the place where I hadbought him. The Irishman took him to my house again and I had to pay forthe man's loss of time as well as for his fare on the railroad. But thedog's old master chained him up with the new chain and I felt repaid formy outlay.
Every morning and night I fed that dog, and I spoke as kindly and gentlyto him as I knew how. But he seemed to cherish a distaste for me, andalways greeted me with a growl. He was an awful dog.
About a week after the arrival of this animal, I was astonished andfrightened on nearing the house to hear a scream from my wife. I rushedinto the yard and was greeted with a succession of screams from twovoices, that seemed to come from the vicinity of the wood-shed. Hurryingthither, I perceived Euphemia standing on the roof of the shed inperilous proximity to the edge, while near the ridge of the roof sat ourhired girl with her handkerchief over her head.
"Hurry, hurry!" cried Euphemia. "Climb up here! The dog is loose! Bequick! Be quick! Oh! he's coming, he's coming!"
I asked for no explanation. There was a rail-fence by the side of theshed and I sprang on this, and was on the roof just as the dog camebounding and barking from the barn.
Instantly Euphemia had me in her arms, and we came very near going offthe roof together.
"I never feared to have you come home before," she sobbed. "I thought hewould tear you limb from limb."
"But how did all this happen?" said I.
"Och! I kin hardly remember," said the girl from under her handkerchief.
"Well, I didn't ask you," I said, somewhat too sharply.
"Oh, I'll tell you," said Euphemia. "There was a man at the gate and helooked suspicious and didn't try to come in, and Mary was at the barnlooking for an egg, and I thought this was a good time to see whetherthe dog was a good watch-dog or not, so I went and unchained him--"
"Did you unchain that dog?" I cried.
"Yes, and the minute he was loose he made a rush at the gate, but theman was gone before he got there, and as he ran down the road I saw thathe was Mr. Henderson's man, who was coming here on an errand, I expect,and then I went down to the barn to get Mary to come and help me chainup the dog, and when she came out he began to chase me and then her;and we were so frightened that we climbed up here, and I don't know,I'm sure, how I ever got up that fence; and do you think he can climb uphere?"
"Oh no! my dear," I said.
"An' he's just the beast to go afther a stip-ladder," said the girl, inmuffled tones.
"And what are we to do?" asked Euphemia. "We can't eat and sleep uphere. Don't you think that if we were all to shout out together, wecould make some neighbor hear?"
"Oh yes!" I said, "there is no doubt of it. But then, if a neighborcame, the dog would fall on him--"
"And tear him limb from limb," interrupted Euphemia.
"Yes, and besides, my dear, I should hate to have any of the neighborscome and find us all up here. It would look so utterly absurd. Let metry and think of some other plan."
"Well, please be as quick as you can. It's dreadful to be--who's that?"
I looked up and saw a female figure just entering the yard.
"Oh, what shall we do" exclaimed Euphemia. "The dog will get her. Callto her!"
"No, no," said I, "don't make a noise. It will only bring the dog. Heseems to have gone to the barn, or somewhere. Keep perfectly quiet, andshe may go up on the porch, and as the front door is not locked, she mayrush into the house, if she sees him coming."
"I do hope she will do that," said Euphemia, anxiously.
"And yet," said I, "it's not pleasant to have strangers going into thehouse when there's no one there."
"But it's better than seeing a stranger torn to pieces before youreyes," said Euphemia.
"Yes," I replied, "it is. Don't you think we might get down now? The dogisn't here."
"No, no!" cried Euphemia. "There he is now, coming this way. And look atthat woman! She is coming right to this shed."
Sure enough, our visitor had passed by the front door, and was walkingtoward us. Evidently she had heard our voices.
"Don't come here!" cried Euphemia. "You'll be killed! Run! run! The dogis coming! Why, mercy on us! It's Pomona!"