CHAPTER VII.

A GALLANT RESCUE.

JUMPING out of bed early next morning, Dick dressed himself in haste

and went downstairs. It did not take him long to sweep the kitchen,

dust it, and kindle a bright fire; and by the time that Mrs. Wilkins,

Molly, and the twins put in their appearance, the table-cloth was laid

and the kettle was singing cheerily.

The Wilkins's repast that morning was a poor, poor meal, and Dick did

not stop long over it. Before half-past nine, he set out, gimlet in

pocket, for Lord Bentford's lake.

Although he was early in getting there, he found at least two dozen

skaters already arrived. It had been freezing hard all night, and the

ice was in excellent condition—as smooth as a sheet of glass.

"Blest if there isn't Widow Wilkins's youngster setting up in

opposition to us, Bill!" exclaimed a rough-looking idler to an equally

rough-looking companion.

The two men were standing on the edge of the lake, whither they

had come to earn a few shillings by putting on people's skates, an

employment needing but little exertion. Turning a scowling countenance

upon the child, the speaker then asked with an oath,—

"What's your charge, young professional? Penny a pair, eh? And chain

the gentlefolks' attention whilst that sharp-nosed retriever of yours

makes off with a rabbit from the plantation hard by."

Dick started and looked round quickly.

Not till this minute had it dawned on him that his dog had followed.

Had he loitered on his way, or even glanced once behind, he must

certainly have seen Stranger stealthily tracking him. But he had

done neither; and now as he stared in vexation at the animal, his

commonsense told him that he must take him home before Lord Bentford or

his gamekeepers had a chance of seeing him.

This, however, was not to be. For no sooner had Dick determined to

retrace his footsteps than a heavy hand was laid on his shoulder, and

an angry voice demanded,—

"Have you had permission to bring that dog of yours here?"

"No," returned Dick, "I haven't."

It was Lord Bentford's head gamekeeper who had put the question.

"I've only this minute seen him. He must have followed me without my

noticing. But I'm going to take him away at once. He hasn't done any

harm.—Stranger, old man, come on."

But for once, in a way, the retriever was pleased to be disobedient.

He had caught sight of a couple of Lady Bentford's collies scampering

across the frozen lake, and with a bark of delight had set off to join

in their play—behaviour that filled his young master's heart with

dismay and humiliation.

"Let me catch the lawless brute as much as looking into one of the

plantations and I'll shoot him, as sure as my name is what it is,"

cried the exasperated gamekeeper, turning angrily away.

Dick trembled at the threat, and set off after his wayward property.

But the ice was slippery, and he fell once or twice and hurt himself

badly. He had just picked himself up, when a piercing shriek rang

through the air, and was followed by a woman's scream of alarm and a

man's loud shout for help.

The refreshment tent was deserted, and every one made a dash for

the spot whence the cries had come. Even disheartened Dick and his

retriever followed.

"A rope, a rope!" some one was calling. "Bring a rope this minute.

There's a child in the water, near the boathouse, where the ice has

been broken for the swans. Quickly, quickly, or we shall be too late!"

"No, a ladder will be better," declared a second voice. "A long ladder

and a rope." Thereupon, a third informed the crowd that it was Lord

Bentford's little boy who was in peril—his only child, indeed, and the

heir to all his land.

"'Tis a wonder if the kid ain't drowned, for he's tumbled in at the

deepest part," was the grim remark of one of the idlers who, a couple

of hours since, had jeered at little Dick. "But then Death don't

make no distinctions. And it's no more for his lordship to lose his

youngster than 'twould be for me to lose one of mine."

"Oh, my child! My darling! He will be drowned—I know he will!" wailed

the distracted mother. "Can nothing be done to save him? Oh, he will

get beneath the boathouse, and—"

"Please—please, your ladyship," gasped Dick, elbowing his way through

the crowd to the place where both parents were standing, "Stranger'll

do it, if you let him try. Stranger'll save the little gentleman."

"Stranger?" Lord Bentford panted. "Who is Stranger, child?"

"My dog, your lordship. Here he is. He's a first-class swimmer is our

Stranger."

Then leading the retriever to the brink of the ice, Dick pointed out

the spot where the child had sunk.

"Fetch him," he cried incitingly. "Fetch him, good dog, good dog!"

And needing no further bidding, Stranger plunged into the lake and kept

himself afloat while he looked eagerly about him.

For several seconds there was breathless silence. The unfortunate

little boy had not yet risen, and there was the chance that when he

did he might come up at a spot that was completely covered by ice.

Happily, however, this contingency had not to be met; for presently a

dark object rose a few feet from the boathouse, and the keen-sighted

dog struck out gallantly towards it. A moment later, Stranger had

fastened his long white teeth into the child's kilted skirts, and set

out snorting for the bank.

"Bravo! Bravo!" burst from at least a dozen lips.

Then as the dog, well-nigh exhausted, came within reach, willing

hands were stretched forth to relieve him of his burden; and the

snow-sweepers, making their reappearance with ropes and a long ladder,

saw that their assistance was not wanted after all.

"Tell me," cried Lady Bentford, wringing her hands over the dripping

form of her child, "does he still breathe?"

"Yes, he is living," came the answer.

Hearing which, Lord Bentford, almost beside himself with gratitude,

turned impulsively aside to address the owner of the dog.

The long spell of misery and privation, however, coupled with the

terrible excitement of the morning, had proved too great a strain for

Dick Wilkins's endurance. He had borne up until the safety of Lord

Bentford's son had been accomplished. He had kept his senses whilst the

crowd had cheered and commended his dog; but now, he sank down with

a groan upon the bank close to the boathouse, and ere his lordship

reached his side consciousness left him, and he fainted.

Dick's retriever · 第 7 / 8 章