Lucile Triumphant. Elizabeth M. Duffield
“Come downstairs and I’ll tell you about it. It is still a little chilly upstairs.”
“All right,” agreed Mrs. Wescott. “Wait a minute; I must get my handkerchief first.” 38
A moment longer and they were in the spacious living-room, with its big library table and leather-covered chairs, and, best of all, glowing fire in the grate.
Mrs. Wescott looked toward the latter in pleased surprise. “Isn’t it snug here?” she said, slipping into one of the chairs before the fire. “A fire always giving the room a cheerful, homey look.”
“Oh, I love it!!” said Lucile, impulsively. “Ever since we came back from camp I’ve been wanting to make a great big camp-fire. This seems such a poor imitation.”
“I imagine it’s just enough to make you camp-sick,” laughed her guardian. “But tell me about Bull. I’m interested.”
“Oh, it’s been the talk of Burleigh for days,” said the girl. “If you will just turn your chair around so you will get a full view of the fire, I’ll tell you about it.”
Her guest did as she was bid and settled back comfortably to enjoy the story.
“Well,” began Lucile, “the other day Bull and his master were walking down Main Street. You know, Jim Keller absolutely refuses to keep Bull tied up and the only wonder is he—the dog, I mean—hasn’t been poisoned long ago, he has so many enemies. Well, Bull broke loose from Jim some way and when he tried to find him he had disappeared. Jim went raving around like a wild man, declaring that, ‘if the dog wasn’t found soon, he’d sure get into some mischief.’ ”
“He showed rare perception.”
“That’s what we all thought—at least, you would have judged so by the way everybody called their children in, and any one that had a pet cat or dog went almost crazy till it was out of harm’s way. Oh, there was excitement in Burleigh that day!”
“I can imagine,” interjected Mrs. Wescott, in huge enjoyment of the picture. “Did Jim find him?” 39
“Not for over an hour. He ran over half the town, looking everywhere for his Bull. At last a small boy came running and told him the dog was over yonder and he was gettin’ a ‘turrible lickin’.’ ”
“Licking?” exclaimed Mrs. Wescott, sitting up straight in her surprise. “Bull?”
“That was the funny part of it,” Lucile went on. “Of course, Jim wouldn’t believe it was his Bull the boy was talking about, but he went with him just the same.
“When he turned the corner he came upon a spectacle that dazed him. He stood with his eyes and mouth wide open, gazing at Bull—it was his Bull, but oh, disgraced forever! There he was on his back in the dust, with a great collie making flying leaps over him. Each time he jumped those terrible nails ripped a piece of flesh from poor Bull——”
“But I never thought a collie had half a chance against a bull dog,” Mrs. Wescott interrupted, incredulously. “And such a dog as Bull, at that!”
“Well, you see, the collie’s owner explained all that afterward. He said that Bull couldn’t get at his dog’s throat because of his unusually long, thick hair—and, as a rule, that’s Bull’s first move, you know.”
“Catch him by the throat and hang on—yes, I know,” her guardian supplemented. “Then what did Jim do?”
“He wanted to go to the rescue. I believe he would have tried to pull the collie off with his own hands, but a man held him off, crying, ‘Haven’t you any sense, man, to try to separate dogs when they’re fighting?’
“ ‘Fighting?’ roared Jim. ‘It isn’t a fight—it’s slaughter. If he’s your mutt, call him off. Don’t ye see he’s killin’ ’im?’
“ ‘He is punishing him pretty badly, I’ll admit,’ said the stranger, so calmly that Jim nearly exploded.
“ ‘If you don’t call that dog o’ yourn off,’ he yelled, purple with rage, ‘by all that’s holy, I will, and ’twill be with a shot-gun.’ 40
“The man saw he meant it, so he whistled softly.”
“And all this time Bull was being punished?” said Mrs. Wescott.
“Yes; he was simply down and out. He didn’t seem to have the power to move a muscle. When his master whistled, the big collie stood still, cocked one ear, and then trotted over, as if what he had done to poor Bull were just in the day’s work.
“ ‘You brute!’ Jim raged. ‘I don’t know which is worse, you or your dog!’
“The man only patted his dog, and said, ‘You’ve done a good day’s work, old man.’
“This last shot was lost on Jim, for he was already bending over Bull, patting his poor old mangled head and calling him all the endearing names he could think of. Finally, seeing that Bull was either too weak or too ashamed to get up and could only wag his stub of a tail, he picked him up very tenderly and started for home.
“That was anything but a triumphal journey. An army returning after overwhelming defeat could not have attracted more attention than those two old warriors. Heads popped out of every door and window, and before he was halfway home he had a train of small boys following him. I declare, when I saw the old man, he was almost crying. When I went up to him and patted the dog’s head, he said, brokenly, ‘He’s all I’ve got, and now they’ve even gone and done him up!’ ”
“Poor old Jim,” said Mrs. Wescott. “Everyone hated Bull, but you can’t help feeling sorry for him and his master when they’re down and out.”
“Oh, it was really pitiful,” said Lucile, “and it made me so desperate to see all those thoughtless cruel boys following him, hooting at him, and laughing at him and calling poor old battered Bull all sorts of names. So I turned around and looked at them. I saw that little Bob Fletcher was one of the crowd. 41
“ ‘Bob,’ I said, ‘suppose your Rover had been hurt—would you like to be laughed at?’
“ ‘I’d like to see anybody that’d try,’ said he, manfully.
“ ‘Then why do you turn round and make fun of Bull when he’s in trouble? It seems to me you’re acting mighty like cowards!’
“The words had a magical effect. I don’t suppose it had struck the boys in that light before, but it was more than their manhood could stand to be called cowards.
“ ‘We ain’t cowards,’ said one, belligerently, ‘and I’ll fight anybody that says we are,’ after which they all looked sheepish and started off in twos and threes, calling to each other that they’d better hurry and finish that game in the field—it would be getting dark soon!”
“You always did have a way with the young folks, Lucy,” smiled her guardian; “but that was a real act of kindness. What did old Jim do?”
“Oh, he gave me a sort of wintry smile and said, ‘Thank’ee little gal. I couldn’t lick the lot of ’em myself, ’count of Bull here!’ Then he stumbled on, muttering to the dog.
“Poor old Bull,” Lucile concluded. “His glory had departed forever and ever——”
“Oh, Fire, long years ago——” the words came from ten girls’ hearts, low, sweet, and vibrant with feeling.
Their guardian sat as if turned to stone.
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CHAPTER VII