“OVER THE HILLS AND FAR AWAY!”
That Waddles did not go up stairs the moment he was called was nothing
unusual, for though Anne’s door-mat was his regular bed he was at
liberty to roam about the house at will.
He sat quite still for a few minutes, listening until the footsteps
overhead ceased, his eyes glowing through the dark like bits of green
phosphorescence, then settled himself again with a sigh, for his back
legs were extra stiff. Happy, having forgotten and gone to sleep, was
again struggling with bad dreams, so he had to arouse her.
“Now that I’ve managed for you to stay indoors, the least that you can
do is to tell me about the hunting the kennel dogs took out of season,”
he said, as soon as she was fairly awake. Poor Happy was heavy with
sleep, but her obliging disposition conquered, though she nodded two or
three times before she remembered where she left her story.
“It was way back in the beginning of flea time, when Miss Letty had
not been up at Hilltop very long, that she gave the kennel dogs such a
holiday as some of them had never had in their whole lives, though Flo
does say that it happened quite by accident.
“All through the hill farms, Miss Jule’s, Squire Burley’s, and Mr.
Hugh’s, there are trees that bear those big long-stemmed red berries
that the birds love; cherries, I think House People call them. When I
lived up there I used to watch out under the trees to see the robins
and catbirds come to eat them, and laugh at poor Antonio, who used
to get a stiff neck pointing at the birds up in the branches, never
getting anything but the pits they dropped on his long nose.
“Flo says that Miss Letty loves these cherries, and that after picking
all the ripe ones she could reach from the ground and fences, one day
she came riding along to gather them on horseback. The best trees were
in Squire Burley’s paddock where his foxhound kennels are, and as he
had often asked Miss Letty to come and help herself, she opened the
gate with her whip handle, rode through and thought she closed it after
her, but it didn’t quite latch. Harkaway, one of the squire’s hounds,
told me this. The squire has five hounds but no one else in Dogtown,
except Miss Jule and Mr. Hugh, keeps more than one each, and when they
really go a-hunting in the fall the squire stands at his gate and fires
his gun, then all the people know the signal and come bringing their
dogs, and together they make as fine a pack as the Hilltop Kennels can
show.
“Miss Letty rode slowly along under the trees, now and then pulling
down a branch with her whip, but she didn’t stay very long before
she went out again and turned into the brush lane that runs from the
squire’s down behind Miss Jule’s kennel yard toward the rabbit wood.
“Then Harkaway signalled to the other hounds with the silent signal
for still hunting and no cry, and they slunk out of the high paddock
gate after nosing it open a little wider. Keeping behind the fence
they followed Miss Letty to the back gate of Miss Jule’s kennel yard
where they lay low and waited. Now those high gates have a strange
fastening; the latch falls between two iron paws that move and hold it,
but sometimes though the gate stays shut one paw forgets to move, and
a quick nose can shove the gate before the paw remembers. That is what
happened when Miss Letty opened that back kennel gate; the outside paw
was stiff and did not lay hold.
[Illustration: “_Pulling a branch down with her whip._”]
“No sooner was she well inside and going to the swimming-pool to give
her horse a drink, than Harkaway, lying outside in the long grass, gave
Silver Tongue the silent signal. Then Silver Tongue, standing in his
usual place, watching frogs by the pond sluiceway, gave his far-away
cry that sounded as if it came from over by Mr. Hugh’s barn, and
Miss Letty, hidden by low-hanging trees, did not notice that all the
foxhounds understood it and sprang up, that the setters stood first at
a point and then dashed toward the gate, one by one disappearing down
the lane.
“Lucky for them that Mr. Wolf didn’t see, for he would have told Miss
Jule and spoiled their sport, for of all the dogs within or out the
kennel Mr. Wolf has the most ‘say so,’ and we almost know that he tells
Miss Jule our secrets, and that they talk together. This much was told
me; the rest I saw myself, for I was in the lane on rabbit business
that morning.
“As it happened, it was our family, the Beagles, that gave warning, for
the moment the first one, old Bramble, my grandmother, and my uncle
Meadow Brook, got into that lane they fell on a fresh rabbit trail and
gave tongue, and then the hounds answered with full cry, and throwing
family pride away, ran with the little hounds, barking, yelping,
following every trail, fresh and stale, and dashing here and there,
where there was no scent at all.
“Miss Letty turned, saw what she had done, and galloped toward the
house, from which Martin and Miss Jule came running, speechless with
astonishment, for all the dogs in the grow-ups’ exercise yard had gone,
and the puppies were wild with excitement and dashing at the wires.
“At first Miss Letty was almost crying, but in a few minutes Miss Jule
began to laugh until she shook all over, and you know that is a great
deal of shake. Then Miss Letty laughed, too, and Martin closed the
back gate and opened one to the barnyard, and sat down by the pump and
waited.
“Soon Mr. Hugh came riding by, looking, oh, so cross, that I was afraid
and hid. He went to where Miss Jule was standing by the puppy yard
fence talking to Flo, and asking her how she came there. Flo had been
shut in by mistake that day, and as she couldn’t get out to go with
the others she was amusing herself catching meadow-mice and she told
me what they said. Flo is such a hard-working dog, and she points,
flushes, and retrieves as well as any two others, and even when she is
shut up she keeps in practice on mice, toads, and squirrels. I can
always tell when it’s a meadow-mouse she is pointing, even when I watch
her through the wires from far off, because she stands short and points
down into the grass, but other times she spreads out more and points
ahead. This day she quite forgot the mouse in listening to Mr. Hugh;
for she said she never knew before that House People could growl.”
[Illustration]
What Mr. Hugh said did not interest Waddles, who was eager for the
hunting, so Happy did not tell it; but as twofoots may like to hear, it
is recorded as it happened.
“Whose carelessness is this?” asked Mr. Hugh.
“Mine,” said Miss Letty, with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, before
Miss Jule could answer. “I didn’t latch the gate, but the dogs will all
be back in a few days, Miss Jule says. What makes you look so fierce?
Surely, your dogs are all safe at home?”
“That’s exactly what they all are not,” said Mr. Hugh, gnawing the ends
of his brown mustache, while his gray eyes flashed green and yellow
sparks, and he beat an angry tattoo with his whip on his leather gaiter.
“But I’ve not been on your land stealing cherries, or opened your
gates,” said Miss Letty, looking puzzled.
“That was not necessary. I was walking below in the lane with a string
of young, unbroken dogs on leaders--four hounds, and half a dozen
setter pups--when a whirlwind of dogs came by, some yelping, some in
full cry, with their noses to the ground, some looking in the air, some
tumbling over each other on a single trail, and others dashing about
between half a dozen. In the hubbub my dogs escaped and followed the
others--”
“Over the hills and far away!” sang Miss Letty, before Mr. Hugh could
finish his sentence, her laughing face breaking into dimples,--“but
pray, how could they get away if you had them in leash?”
“I let go--that is, the stringer slipped through my hand, and so,
because Miss Heedless left that gate open, a fine lot of pups that I
bred for exhibition and who have never before left the kennels, have
gone goodness knows where, and, ten to one, I shall never see any of
them again. I’m awfully annoyed,” and Mr. Hugh swung himself off his
horse and fumbled with the bit to cool his heated temper.
It would have been better for him if he had stayed mounted, for Mr.
Hugh on horseback had a commanding figure, while on the ground his legs
seemed too short for his body, so that the sudden change was always
something of a shock to the looker-on.
Miss Letty coloured a trifle and then said pleasantly, but in quite a
firm voice, as if she had decided that she would not be treated like a
child any longer: “I don’t wonder that you are annoyed at having been
what Anne calls ‘rattled,’ and letting your dogs slip through your
fingers, I sympathize with you. I should be if I were you; but I think
you will see them again for they will probably kill all the ducks and
geese and turkeys they meet. I’ve noticed it’s a way young dogs have
on their first outings. Then of course the owners will bring back the
dogs and the bills for damages together. Oh, no, your dogs will return.”
After that day Mr. Hugh was quite careful how he crossed swords with
Miss Letty, and she no longer stood in awe of him, which means that
they then began to understand each other without knowing it.
* * * * *
Happy got up and turned her other side to the fire, before she
continued. She felt uneasy, and thought perhaps she had eaten too much
sausage; but it was so good and she always felt hungry.
“The hunting, where did the dogs go?” prompted Waddles.
[Illustration: “_He stood in his gateway holding his gun._”]
“They ran down the lane together until they reached the low woods by
the brook, and after trampling the trails into a snarl, they divided,
the beagles keeping in the rabbit land. The others climbing up the
rocks and following the ledge that goes on and on until it is Pine
Ridge, where the fox lairs are and the best coon-trees. For of course
the old hounds remembered the real hunting days when any autumn day
might find the Squire’s hounds chained to the fence in readiness while
he stood in the gateway holding his gun waiting to fire the signal to
tell the neighbours that a fox had been seen, when they would gather
men and dogs to scramble afoot over rocks and briers. Of course as you
are a house fourfoot, I suppose you never went fox-hunting; but I will
tell you one thing, it is no work for beagles; our legs are too short,
for the foxhounds lope like horses and we get nowhere.”
“I’ve been,” answered Waddles, putting on a worldly wise expression,
such as Hamlet used to wear when he did tricks, and before he found
himself, “I haven’t forgotten it. I was away two nights and a day and
Missy thought me dead because it was at the time we had adventures and
saw strange things and we had been to the far woods to see the _Bad
One_ die, only two days before.
“At first I followed the fox trail with the hounds. It’s a queer trail,
and smells rank and raw, not ripe and delicious like a rabbit’s. Soon
I fell back and stumbled, for they went over places I could only crawl
through, and then I sprained a paw and drew into a corner where the
moss was soft, to rest. When I waked up it was early morning, and I was
stiff and hungry. I tried to surprise a rabbit for breakfast, but the
wind was the wrong way and they scented me first. I was too lame to
walk much at a time, and I had to rest often. Toward afternoon I caught
a mole and tried to eat it, but ugh! it had such a horrid flavour that
it sickened me, and the fur was loose and gave me a cough. Just before
night I caught a red squirrel that was trying to rob a nest and got
pecked in the eye and fell out of the tree. The squirrel was an old
fighter, with iron legs, a leather body, and wooden insides, not a bit
juicy, and only good to chew. Next morning I limped home in time to
breakfast on kidney stew. I tell you what it is, the hunting is fine
for sport and killing, but living by it is quite another thing, and
running with foxhounds is not good for beagles.”
“Well, as I was saying,” continued Happy, “the old foxhounds kept on up
to Pine Ridge, the little ones following very well, but the setter pups
turned off at the Mill cross-roads and got into trouble.
“Besides the Squire’s dogs and Miss Jule’s, all the idlers in Dogtown
had gathered and straggled after when they heard the foxhounds call,
and there are mischief-makers among fourfoots as well as with House
People.
“Beyond the Mill is a big turkey pasture, you know, the place we
buy our turkeys from. Just as the setters were passing it a hairy
yellow cur came up and said, ‘There’s fine hunting there and plenty
of it--nice young birds.’ The moment those setters got under the bars
their noses went down and their tails whirled around like buzz-saws,
and they zigzagged across the pasture, charging on the first flock in
a body. These were fine white turkeys. The hen who led them showed
fight, but the yellow cur teased her off, and the setters, knowing
nothing, bit and shook and scattered feathers, until of the fifteen
young turkeys not one was left unhurt; then, wild with excitement and
the taste of game, they dashed down the field to where some fine bronze
birds were sunning themselves. Half a dozen fell before a great gobbler
charged from the bushes and gave chase, while the cur picked out one
of the killed and took it behind a stone fence, where he ate it at
his leisure. Then men began to gather from the fields and two of the
pups were caught and tied securely in the barn while the turkeys were
collected.
“‘Some one will pay well for these,’ said the farmer, as he laid
twenty-nine young turkeys in a row, ‘and the bill will read twenty-nine
Thanksgiving turkeys at $2.00 each, for that’s what they were on the
road to. Now we’ll round up the dogs’ owner,’ and he went toward the
stable to harness a team.
“The other two setters, Patty and Rory, disappointed in having to leave
before they had tasted meat, went toward the mill-pond for a drink.
‘Quack, quack,’ said a covey of plump white ducks, sailing from the
open into a little bushy cove.
“Quick as a lightning-bug, the pups splashed after them, Rory O’Moore
leading, for he was a special pet of Mr. Hugh’s, and had taken swimming
lessons from Hamlet in the kennel pool, once crossing the river. The
ducks dove, and scattered, but the pups seized a long neck each, and,
determined not to go hungry this time, took their game to the shelter
of the very door-steps of the mill to make a luncheon. Poor pups! they
knew no better, but they do now, for the big miller caught them and
dropped them into an empty feed bin, where it was nearly dark, and
oh, so stuffy! Then the turkey farmer driving down the road pulled
up, and after some talk the miller got in with him, and they drove
off together, the turkeys and two ducks packed in the wagon box for
witnesses.
[Illustration: _Antonio and the Young Spaniels._]
“It was lonely that day up in the kennel yard, I can tell you.
Flo said it made her feel like the leaf-fall time, when she had the
distemper, and all the bird dogs had gone travelling in their crates
but she; and she was glad to talk to a lame-winged crow that came to
beg, for the only grown dog in the big lot was old Antonio, and with
him the young spaniels Ruth, Dell, and Una, who plagued his wits out by
chasing him round and round the pool, and daring him to swim.
“Meanwhile the beagles were all over the woods, and I--well, I went
with them, just for old acquaintance sake, you know. There were plenty
of young rabbits round about, but somehow we were confused, and let
them slip; too many trails are worse than none, I find. But just before
evening Clover-Dew, my litter brother, and Briar, my aunt, broke loose,
going off together, and I following, for they ran well, and the trail
lay straight.
“Up from the wood they went, across pastures and a truck farm, until
they gave tongue that the scent was hot, and the quarry close in front,
then I saw two big rabbits that were the poorest leapers of any I ever
knew. Will you believe it, Waddles, they even sat up once or twice
and looked back at us. We overtook them in a fence corner that had a
garden on the other side. We three charged together, and there was a
great tussle, for if those rabbits were stupid about running, they were
fine kickers. Just as I had the biggest well by the leg, a man and a
little girl came to the fence, and when she saw what we were doing,
she began to hop up and down and scream, and cry, ‘Oh, papa, save my
poor bunnies!’ Then I saw that she was Tommy’s friend, Pinkie Scott,
and those fool rabbits were the foreign Hare things her father gave her
for her birthday, and that she keeps in a great big bird-cage,--that
is, when she remembers to shut the door, which isn’t often. Of course,
we were polite and let go, and went a little way back in the field
and sat down to rest. The rabbits? Oh, one wasn’t hurt, but the other
was--well--damaged; they mended him, for I saw him last week when I was
down there to call on Luck and Pluck with Tommy. Pinkie had forgotten
again, and those rabbits had broken loose and eaten all the late
lettuce, and her father was chasing them, and he said, ‘I wish those
little hounds had finished you last summer.’ Then I didn’t feel quite
so ashamed of biting that hind leg as I had before, and, Waddles, do
you know, that everywhere I go to visit, private rabbits seem to be a
nuisance, and a ‘better be dead’; so I’m sure they ought to be fair
hunting, like the wild ones.”
“Humph!” said Waddles, “good running as usual, but poor catching. What
did the foxhounds get, a mouthful of thistle-down?”
“Ah! but they had the best of it,” said Happy, her eyes sparkling;
“they stayed out two whole days, and when they had tired out the stray
dogs that followed and the young dogs that only wanted to play, they
settled down to work. They knew their ground well for they’d just been
on a spring run with the squire and Mr. Hugh to locate the dens for
fall work. Late the next night, Flo says, the squire’s Harkaway and
Meadow-Lark gave tongue so loudly that the squire and Mr. Hugh went
out, and following the cry two miles found them just as they had killed
an old gray fox, the biggest hen-roost robber of all the Pine Ridge
pack, one they had tried to shoot and trap for years, as his scars
quickly told them.
[Illustration]
“Wasn’t the squire proud! He gave Miss Jule the brush, though it wasn’t
good for much,--pelts are poor in summer,--and he made a meat feast
for all the hounds, for after they had heard Meadow-Lark’s death bay
they came limping back one by one. Next day when I went up to talk
to Silver-Tongue he was standing as usual by the sluiceway of the
swimming-pool catching frogs, but when I asked him to come over by the
fence and lie down, and tell me about the great hunt, he said he’d
rather stand up for he didn’t bend well. That is one of the hardest
things about not running free, you don’t get your exercise every day
when _you_ want it, but when somebody else does, and then it comes all
together in bunches, and between times you get rusty.”
“What happened about Mr. Hugh’s pups, did he get them back, and the
turkeys and ducks?” asked Waddles, who was beginning to grow sleepy.
“Bills happened and lots of talking, Hamlet told me about that and Mr.
Wolf. The farmer and the miller wouldn’t give back the dogs until they
got their money either, and Hamlet says if Mr. Hugh teases Miss Letty
she only has to sing ‘Over the hills and far away!’ and he stops, but I
don’t see what that has got to do with it, do you?”
“Hush!” signalled Waddles, knocking on the floor with his tail to
attract Happy’s attention, “Missy is coming!”
Yes, Anne was coming downstairs, not barefoot this time, but dressed in
a warm, red bath gown, her feet in moccasins, and looking in the dim
light very like the Indian maidens she loved to call her kin. She had
been planning what picture she would take first on the morrow, and she
thought her camera might be safer in her room; at any rate if she put
it on the chair beside her bed she would see it the moment she opened
her eyes, for this camera was not merely a picture machine to her, but
a magical live thing to help her keep the images of those she loved.
She was just deciding that Waddles should have the honour of being the
first to be photographed, as he would probably be ready sooner than her
mother, when the burned-out log fell apart, and its parting glow showed
her Happy, lying on the hearth-rug.
“You in here! This will never do; because, you see, when I bought you
from Miss Jule, mother said that you might come here if I promised
that I would never let you sleep inside the house, not even once; as,
being a kennel dog so long, your manners are not quite those of a house
fourfoot,--and I promised. Yes, I know it’s very nice in here; but your
house is nice, too, for Baldy put in a new bed to-night, and you’ll be
very comfy; and you know, my dear, you do snore horribly,--such loud,
growling snores. Besides, Jack Waddles is out there alone waiting for
you. Ah! do you mean to be spunky? Then I shall call father,--no, I
forgot; he is busy in the study, and it’s a ‘mustn’t be’ to disturb him
when he is there, you know,--only mother may do that. So don’t roll
over on your back; you are far too heavy for me to carry.”
Anne gave a stamp and pointed to the door,--her way of telling the
deaf little beagle that she meant business; and Happy got up slowly,
and crept, rather than walked, out, and made directly for the nursery
kennel, which she still occupied, without more ado. Jack was, of
course, delighted to see her; but, strange to say, she did not return
his caresses, but growled and snapped at him, and refused to let him
go near the bedroom end of the house, which was separated from the
front part and was full of straw. Instead of lying down at once, she
rummaged about in the straw restlessly, throwing it out on the floor
and refusing to lie down. After two rebuffs, Jack left the kennel,
and stood looking disconsolately at Anne, who was quite puzzled, and
finally allowed Jack Waddles to go back to the house with her, saying
as they went: “This is quite a new arrangement, and to-morrow Jackie
shall have a place of his own, if mamma is going to be cross. To-night,
and maybe always, he shall be a house fourfoot, like his papa, if he
will mind his ways and keep on his own rug.”
Next morning there was a still newer order of things that quite settled
the matter of Jack’s quarters, and also gave Anne an unlimited chance
for photography as well.