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The Vast Abyss, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 49 |
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_ CHAPTER FORTY NINE. "Oh, I can't stand this," said Tom, jumping up, and hurriedly beginning to dress, after throwing open his window to see the east gradually turning red, and the clouds far up tinged and necked with orange. Then there was another low, piteous howling. "Lie down, you brute!" he shouted out of the window, to be answered by a quick, yelping bark. "Perhaps Pete is not about, and the dog really is starving," thought Tom; and he finished dressing as another howl broke out, more piteous and mournful than ever. "Will you be quiet!" he shouted from the window. "Lie down, and I'll bring you a bone, you ugly, rat-tailed, low-bred dog-ruffian." He was interrupted by a joyous, yelping bark. "That dog does want to be friends with me, but I can't have him here," thought Tom, who now opened his door as quietly as he could, but it gave a loud creak, so did one of the boards, as he walked towards the staircase. "That you, Tom?" came from his uncle's room. "Yes, uncle." "There's a dog making a miserable noise. Try and drive it away." "Just going to, uncle," said Tom. Then to himself, as he went down-stairs--"Driving's no good, or old Dave would have got rid of him yesterday. I shall have to try him with a bone." He laughed to himself as he made his way into the larder, wondering what Mrs Fidler would say if she could see him; and after looking beneath two or three wire covers, he pounced upon a bladebone of a shoulder of mutton, pretty literally a bone, and bore it away, taking his cap and going out into the garden, getting to the side gate in the lane, and passing out just as the sun rose above the horizon. "Here, hi! ugly!" he cried, breaking into the midst of a howl; and the dog came bounding toward him with its yelping bark. "There; it's very stupid of me, but just you take that and be off into the woods, and if you come here again look out for squalls." The dog made a fierce snap at the bone, upon which its sharp teeth clapped, and then with a growl bounded off, but stopped and came back, dropped the bone in the sand, looked up at Tom, and threw up its head to howl again. "Why, halloo! what's the matter then?" cried Tom, holding out his hand; "got another adder-bite in the nose?" "Ow--ow!" moaned the dog, pressing its head up against the hand. Then it started away, barked sharply, turned, and looked at Tom. "Here, let's have a look," he cried; and the dog uttered an eager bark. "Come here." The dog ran to him directly, and after a momentary hesitation Tom took hold of its head, and held up its muzzle without the slightest resistance being offered. "Well, we seem to have got to be pretty good friends," said Tom, as he looked carefully, and then let go; "but I don't see anything wrong. Besides, it isn't swollen." The dog barked loudly now, and started away for a few yards. "Here, here! Don't leave your sandy bone," cried Tom, and the dog ran back. "Here, catch hold." Then there was a snap made at the tempting morsel, but it was dropped again directly, for the poor brute to throw up its muzzle and give forth another piteous howl. "Oh, I say, don't do that," cried Tom; and this was responded to by a burst of barking. "Why, what's the matter with you? Mouth sore? Toothache?" There was another burst of barking, and the dog ran on a few yards, and looked back to bark again. "I don't understand your language, old chap," cried Tom. "What do you want? Found a rabbit round here?" Another eager bark, and the dog pricked up its ears, and looked more and more excited. "All right, come and pick this up then. It's too good to leave." The dog rushed at the bone as Tom turned it over with his foot, seized it, and ran on again, dropped it, and barked. Then, as the boy advanced, it seized the bone and ran on farther, to go through the same performance. "Very well, I'll come," cried Tom. "Bound to say he has found an adder somewhere, and wants me to kill it, though I should hardly think there are any about now," and he set off at a trot after the dog, whose whole manner changed at this, for it went bounding off along the road, stopping every now and then to drop the bone and bark excitedly; twice over it left the meat and ran on, but at a word it came back, picked it up, and went on as before, with tail and ears erect, looking as full of business as could be. "Isn't this very stupid?" muttered Tom; "me running after this miserable-looking brute. He's going to change masters, and wants me to go hunting with him--that's what it is. Pete has knocked him about once too often. Wonder what uncle would say if I took such an object back. And old David!" He laughed heartily as he pictured the gardener's disgust, but somehow he could not help feeling satisfied by the dog's show of affection. At this point he stopped, for they had gone some distance along beside the fir-wood, and to try how the animal would behave, he called it. The bone was dropped, and the animal rushed back to him barking excitedly, allowing itself to be patted, and then jumping up and butting its head against him in a way more eager than pleasant. "Well, isn't that enough?" cried Tom, giving the dog a few friendly pats, which made it dart on again barking. "Here! hi! The bone!" and the dog dashed back, picked it up, and bolted steadily on again, till at about a mile from Heatherleigh it stopped by an opening into the wood, bounded up the sandy bank, and stood there barking as it looked back. "Look here," cried Tom, as he came up, and talking to the dog as if it understood him. "No treachery, old chap; Pete hasn't sent you, has he, to lure me into the wood for another fight? Because if that's it I'm going back. I don't want to knock myself about again--or be knocked," he added merrily. There was a volley of barks here, and the dog was going to plunge into the depths of the fir-wood without the dropped bone, but a word checked it, and it picked up its mouthful and went on, while Tom hesitated at the edge. "I'm not going any farther," he muttered. "What's the good?" but the dog was back, looking wilder and more excited than ever. "All right! go on then; I'm after you," he cried. "It will be a grand run before breakfast, and there's plenty of time." From this moment, as Tom trotted quickly over the fir-needles at the dog's heels, the poor brute went steadily on, uttering a low, muffled bark every now and then as it threaded its way in and out among the fir-trees as if bound for some particular spot. This began to impress Tom now, and he wondered why his companion did not begin to hunt about; then this wonder increased as first one and then another rabbit was put up, to dart away, eliciting low growls from the dog, but that was all. It showed not the slightest disposition to dash after them. "Can dogs think?" said Tom to himself, with a new interest now in his pursuit. "He must mean something. Is it an adder? I'll be bound to say he is going right away to that open place where he was stung, to show me the dead viper that he has killed." The farther they went on, the more convinced Tom felt that this was the case, for they were going right in the direction, and making good progress too, the dog never stopping for a moment, but just swinging its ugly head round to see if it was followed before settling to its steady trot once more. This went on for quite half-an-hour, and Tom was pretty well breathless as he stopped to have a bit of rest, while the dog halted, dropped its bone, turned up its head, and howled again dismally. "I can't help it, old chap," cried Tom; "I haven't got four legs to run with; I must walk now." As the dog saw him advance it barked joyously again, and trotted on once more, but more slowly as it found that it was not followed so swiftly. Then all at once a fresh idea flashed through Tom's brain, and he fell a-wondering whether he could be right. He had never been across the wood this way before, but it was undoubtedly in the direction of Pete's lurking-place under the great pine-tree, and it seemed possible that the dog was making for there. But why? For what reason? Tom felt uneasy, and involuntarily, in spite of a slight sensation of shrinking, began to trot once more, while the dog seemed to gladly increase its pace after a look back. "It must be," thought Tom; "he is leading me straight to the sandy cave. What for?" An undefined sensation of uneasiness began to increase upon him. He was getting hot with exercise, but his blood was quite cool. Imagination had not stirred him; he had had no breakfast; and if a fight was before him, he felt most decidedly that he would rather not. In this spirit then he kept on telling himself that he might as well turn back now, but all the same he kept trotting on after the dog, putting off the return till he had gone a little farther and a little farther, and always keeping on, till all at once it seemed to be a little lighter on ahead, and he strained his eyes in the full expectation of seeing Pete Warboys waiting for him. "And if he is," he half thought, half muttered, "as sure as I live I'll get David to help me, and we'll trap and half kill this treacherous brute." Another hundred yards, and he was looking wonderingly about him, for the place was strange. He had never been there before. Then he grasped the meaning of the strangeness. The storm had evidently come down here with terrific force, making a path through the pine-forest, some of whose trees were laid like wheat after a heavy wind; while just in front one huge tree had been blown right over, and in falling had crushed down a dozen or more in the path of its fall, letting in light, and strewing the soft earth with broken limbs, and trunks lying like jack-straws on the ground. "That's why he has brought me," said Tom, half aloud. "Halloo, where is he? Here! here! old boy, here!" He was answered by a furious barking, and the dog sprang up into sight on the trunk of the big tree close up to its roots, barking furiously at him, and then turning and leaping down out of sight; while Tom felt as if all of a sudden his blood had begun to turn cold, and his legs beneath him had grown weak. For a horrible thought had suddenly flashed across his mind, like a meteor over the field of the great telescope. He knew now the dumb language of the dog, and why it had fetched him; and as if to endorse his thought, there came from about a dozen yards away so wild and blood-curdling a yell, that for the moment he could not believe it to be the dog, but that it came from some one in mortal peril. _ |
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