"A CONSIDERING-CAP."
When Cecile sank down in a swoon in the hut, Toby, who had been lying
on the ground apparently half asleep, had risen impatiently. Things
were by no means to this dog's liking; in fact, things had come to such
a pass that he could no longer bear them quietly. Maurice gone; Joe
quite wild and distracted; and Cecile lying like one dead. Toby had an
instinct quite through his honest heart that the time had come for
_him_ to act and with a wild howl he rushed into the forest.
Neither of the two he left behind noticed him; both were too absorbed
in the world into which they had entered--Cecile was lying in the
borderland between life and death, and Joe's poor feet had strayed to
the edge of that darker country where dwells despair.
The dog said to himself: "Neither of them can act, and immediate steps
must be taken. Maurice must be found; I, Toby, must not rest until I
bring Maurice back."
He ran into the forest, he sniffed the air, for a few moments he rushed
hither and thither; then, blaming himself for not putting his wits into
requisition, he sat down on his haunches. There, in the forest of the
Landes, Toby might have been seen putting on his considering-cap. Let
no one laugh at him. This dog had been given brains by his Maker; he
would use these brains now for the benefit of the creatures he loved.
Maurice had strayed into the forest; he must bring him back. Now, this
particular part of the forest was very large, covering indeed thousands
of leagues. There was no saying how far the helpless child might have
strayed, not being blessed with that peculiar sense which would have
guided Toby back to the hut from any distance, He might have wandered
now many leagues away; still Toby, the dog who had watched over his
infancy, would not return until he found him again. The dog thought now
in his own solemn fashion, What did Maurice like best? Ah! wise Toby
knew well: the pretty things, the soft things, the good things of life
were little Maurice's desires; plenty of nice food, plenty of warmth
and sunshine, plenty of pretty things to see, to touch. In the forest
what could Maurice get? Food? No, not without money; and Toby knew that
Cecile always kept those little magic coins, which meant so much to
them all, in her own safe keeping. No, Maurice could not have food in
the forest, but he could have flowers. Toby therefore would seek for
the straying child where the flowers grew. He found whole beds of
hyacinths, of anemones, of blue-bells, of violets; wherever these grew,
there Toby poked his sagacious nose; there he endeavored to take up the
lost child's scent. At last he was successful; he found a clew. There
was a trampled-down bed of violets; there were withered violets
scattered about. How like Maurice to fill his hands with these
treasures, and then throw them away. Clever Toby, sniffing the ground,
presently caught the scent he desired. This scent carried him to the
main road, to the place where the caravan had stood. He saw the mark of
wheels, the trampling of horses' feet, but here also the scent he was
following ended; the caravan itself had absolutely disappeared. Toby
reflected for a minute, threw his head in the air, uttered a cry and
then once more rushed back into the forest. Here for a long, long time
he searched in vain for any fresh scent; here, too, he met with one or
two adventures. A man with a gun chased him, and Toby's days might have
been numbered, had he not hidden cleverly under some brushwood until
the enemy had disappeared. Then he himself yielded to a canine
weakness, and chased a rabbit, but only to the entrance of its burrow;
but it was here also that he again took up the clew, for there were
just by this rabbit's burrow one or two violets lying dead where no
other violets were growing. Toby sniffed at them, gave a glad and
joyful cry, and then was off like a shot in quite the contrary
direction from where he had come. On and on, the scent sometimes
growing very faint, sometimes almost dying out, the dog ran; on and on,
he himself getting very tired at last, his tongue hanging out, feeling
as if he must almost drop in his longing for water; on and still on,
until he found his reward; for at last, under a wide-spreading oak
tree, fast asleep, with a tear-begrimed and pale face, lay the little
wanderer.
Was ever dog so wild with delight as Toby? He danced about, he capered,
he ran, he barked, he licked the little pale face, and when little
Maurice awoke, his delight was nearly as great as the dog's; perhaps it
was greater, for Maurice, with his arms tight round Toby, cried long
and heartily for joy.
"Toby, take me home; take me back to Cecile and Joe," said the boy.
Toby looked intelligent and complying, but, alas! there were limits
even to his devotion. Back he and his little charge could not go until
he had stretched his weary limbs on that soft grass, until he too had
indulged in a short slumber. So the child and the dog both lay side by
side, and both slept.
God's creatures both, and surely his unprotected creatures they seemed,
lying there all alone in so vast a solitude. But it was only seeming,
it was not so in reality, for round them guardian angels spread
protecting wings, and the great Father encircled them both with his
love. Two sparrows are not sold for a farthing without his loving
knowledge, and Maurice and Toby were therefore as safe as possible.
In the cool of the evening the two awoke, very hungry, it is true, but
still refreshed, and then the dog led the lost child home.