PAT LOST AND FOUND.
For two days in the year at the annual fair, the quiet little town of
Weyn gave itself up to merrymaking. Shows and caravans choked the
narrow streets; huge roundabouts as "patronised by all the crowned
heads of Europe," swung giddily round in the market-place, and the
shouts of the stall-keepers, and the din of the orchestra, and the
ceaseless crack of the rifle ranges, where boys were shooting for
cocoa-nuts, made a noise that was almost deafening.
The piles of gingerbread and coloured rock on the stalls looked very
tempting, and Dick, with Pat in his arms, and three-and-ninepence in
his pocket, felt rich as he walked by. But though he liked sweet
things, all the more because he had had so few to enjoy, he would not
be tempted to buy.
"Don't believe Lionheart had cakes and candy--not when he was on the
crusades, anyhow. It must be bread and cheese, and maybe a whole
ha'poth of milk for us, Pat, to-day. When I'm a fitter you shall have
a good meaty bone every day of your life!"
Pat looked up, as if he quite understood, and on some old stone steps
in one of the quieter streets they were soon sharing rations, with
appetites that a duke might have envied.
"Here, boy, hold my horse for a couple of minutes, will you? Don't let
go; he doesn't like this pandemonium any better than I do."
In a moment Dick was on his feet and ready for business, and for the
second time that day he gripped a bit of strap, with the resolve to
hold on at all costs.
Only _this_ horse was a beautiful chestnut, with a coat like satin, and
harness that must have cost more than carrier Brown's whole turn-out.
The gentleman went into the post-office opposite, but the noise of the
fair evidently upset the spirited horse, and he was very restless and
impatiently pawed the ground and tossed his head.
"What a lot of stamps he must be getting!" thought Dick, when five
minutes had gone by and there was still no sign of the rider's return.
A party of children, blowing penny trumpets, clattered past and the
horse gave a spring that taxed Dick's wrists to the utmost.
He was too busy and anxious to think about Pat, so he did not see or
hear the girl in the orange scarf steal up to him and offer a dainty
piece of meat, as he sat patiently waiting behind. Alas! for dogs'
nature, the temptation was too great! He followed the decoy for a few
yards and was then allowed to seize the bait. In a moment a black
shawl was flung over the silky head, and the dog was snatched up and
carried round the corner and across the Market Place.
Pat struggled and snapped and barked in vain, and the girl hurried
through the town to a back lane where a number of caravans were drawn
up out of the way. At one of these the showman in the velveteen coat
was standing, and he instantly opened an inner compartment and, giving
Pat a sharp blow, thrust him inside and turned the key.
"Good for you, Meg!" he cried with a chuckle. "That dog 'll be worth
money to the show, by the time I've trained him. 'The Wonderful Black
and Tan Performer,' &c. We'll keep him shut up till we're far from
here, and if any questions is asked it's our dog, and that boy's a
thief that have stole him from our 'appy 'ome."
"All right, dad, that's a good idea. We'll go back to the Square now.
They won't be likely to come and look here."
The Post Office was very full that morning, and the girl behind the
counter looked worried, as she tried to meet all the demands of hurried
customers.
But at last the owner of the chestnut horse got his business of money
orders and telegrams finished and came out.
"That's right, my lad; here's sixpence for your trouble," he said as he
took the reins from Dick and mounted and rode off.
"Sixpence." Another good payment for a small piece of hard work!
Dick looked down triumphantly at the coin, but his face changed in a
moment. This was no sixpence, such as he had often been entrusted with
on Mrs. Fowley's errands, but a coin of shining yellow gold.
"It's half a sovereign," he cried breathlessly, and just for one moment
the thought came, "Now I can take the train and ride to Ironboro'.
Surely ten shillings would buy a ticket for all the way."
But like a flash the temptation came and went. "Lionhearts don't
steal," he cried as he dashed down the street after the horseman
crying, "Stop! Stop!"
But the fleet and spirited horse was already far on the way, and though
Dick ran as fast as his feet could go the distance increased every
moment.
He would have had no chance of success but for a carriage coming in the
opposite direction. It carried several ladies and the rider reined in
his horse for a chat.
Dick ran on and reached the group just as the rider was preparing to go
on again.
"You are followed," said one of the ladies softly. "I am sure this boy
wants to speak to you."
The rider looked round, and recognising Dick said, "Well, my boy, what
is it?"
"The money sir, please, you said you gave me sixpence and it was half a
sovereign. I've brought it back."
"Well done. There's one honest boy in the fair, at any rate. Take
this for your trouble, but don't spend it all on ginger bread."
"Oh, thank you, sir, I shan't spend any. I'm going to Ironboro'."
"But that is a hundred miles off, at least. Why are you going so far?"
asked the lady.
"To find my uncle and learn to be an engineer."
"H'm, a large order for a small man," said the gentleman kindly.
"Here, I'll give you a character that may help you more than money."
And tearing a leaf out of his pocket book, he wrote on it, "I have
proved the bearer to be a quick and honest boy. Dale Melville."
"There, laddie, that name is known in Ironboro', and it may do you a
good turn."
"Are you going alone?" asked the lady with white hair, who had been
listening to all that passed, and seemed amused at Dick's gratitude.
"Oh, yes, ma'am--at least only Pat and me. He is my little dog, you
know."
Then with sudden recollection he turned hurriedly and looked for his
faithful follower. But there was no Pat in sight, and flushing
painfully, he cried, "Oh, he's left behind. I must run back at once,
or he'll be lost in the fair."
And scarcely waiting to lift his old cap to the ladies, he darted back
towards the town. Thrusting the new half-crown deep into his pocket,
he sped on, calling Pat and whistling for him in vain.
"Maybe he dropped asleep from tiredness, and I'll find him by the steps
again."
But there was no trace of the little dog there, and Dick felt very
unlike Lionheart as he searched for his lost companion, and asked all
the passers by if they had seen him. But all the people seemed intent
on their own pleasure, and for an hour Dick walked up and down without
any tidings of Pat.
Then a mischievous looking urchin playing marbles looked up as Dick
passed and said mysteriously, "I know about your dog, but I shan't tell
for nothing. Give me a penny, for a ride on the gallopin' horses."
Dick put a penny into the grimy hand, and the boy said in a loud
whisper, "A girl had him while you was holding the horse--'ticed him
off with a piece of meat. I see her."
"What was she like?" cried Dick eagerly, "and which way did she go?"
"Down the Market Place, and she was belonging to one of the shows. She
was bigger'n you, and she had a yellow scarf on and eardrops."
The girl on the caravan whose master had wanted Pat! Dick had the clue
now, but how could he recover his treasure?
Shutting his eyes for a moment he prayed to his Heavenly Father for
help, and then began another tour of the shows.
There were dogs in plenty, ugly and lean-looking curs lying on the
straw under the waggons or loafing around the shops in search of
plunder, but none at all like Pat.
Again and again as he passed he called and whistled, but there was no
answering bark. Suddenly he saw the girl just inside a gaily painted
show while her father stood on the steps and called out, "Walk up,
ladies and gentlemen! Walk up and see the smallest dwarf in the world
with his performing happy family, dogs and cats and birds, all living
together. Only 2d., for the greatest wonder of the age."
Without a moment's hesitation, Dick ran forward and said to the girl,
"What have you done with my dog? Please let me have him back at once!"
"Your dog," she said with a toss of her head that set the earrings
dancing. "I like your impudence. Haven't seen or heard of your dog."
"But you had him and took him away; a boy told me so!"
"Haven't seen him, I tell you."
"Now, you young rascal, be off at once, or I'll give you in charge!"
said the man threateningly. "Coming here with such cock-and-bull
tales."
"What's it all about?" said a tall policeman, stepping forward.
"Why, this young varmint has lost his dog and comes here after it, as
cheeky as can be. We ain't got no dog except the happy family one in
here as we've had for years, and that's a white one, as you can see for
yourself."
"Was yours white?" said the officer to Dick.
"No, sir, black and tan. A boy told me he saw that girl pick him up
and run off."
"Best go and find the boy," said the policeman not unkindly, "then
we'll see."
"I'll make it hot for you, if you show your impudent face here again!"
shouted the man, who was red with passion. He grew redder still as the
officer asked quickly, "How did you know this dog was not white?"
"They've got him, I know they have," Dick muttered as he turned away
with a sob in his throat. "James Cross--that's the name on the show,
and I'll follow them everywhere, till I get Pat back."
But he went through all the Fair again, without finding any trace of
the boy who had told him. Presently he saw the empty waggons drawn up
in the side alley, and with fresh hope in his heart he hurried along.
And in the last in the row "James Cross" was painted and, from
somewhere within, there came a low, unhappy whine.
Instantly Dick was at the door calling "Pat!" and whistling the
familiar call, and this was answered by a storm of eager muffled
barking. The locked door was shaken in vain, and there was no possible
way of rescue there.
But Dick rushed back to the middle of the Fair, and going at once to
the friendly policeman cried, "I've found him! I've found him! He's
locked up in their waggon down that side street. Oh, please make them
come and let him out."
"Is this true?" said the officer sternly to the showman, who had heard
every word. "Have you got his dog?"
"'Tisn't his, it's mine. The young rascal stole him from me and now
wants to make out it's his own."
"But you said just now you hadn't got another dog. When did he steal
it?"
"This morning, and I got him back, of course."
"I didn't steal it, sir," cried Dick indignantly. "It's my very own.
Come and hear how he barks when I call him."
"Come and let him out at once," said the officer, "and we'll soon
settle the ownership."
"Can't leave the show," muttered the man angrily.
"Oh, yes, you can. It isn't far, and this girl can manage without you!"
The man sullenly got down and marched along most unwillingly with the
officer and Dick, followed by an interested crowd.
"Now open the door; there's a dog in there, undoubtedly. We shall know
directly who's telling the truth."
Two doors were unlocked, and then like a small whirlwind Pat scrambled
out, rushed to Dick's feet and grovelled there in an ecstasy of joy.
"Hum, considering you say this boy only stole him this morning, they've
got uncommon fond of one another! Call him and see if he'll come to
you." But the showman's wiles were in vain. Pat would not go near him.
"Have you any witnesses to prove he's yours, my lad?"
Dick thought a moment and said, "I couldn't find the boy who saw him
stolen from me. But Mr. Brown the carrier knows. He heard this man
offer to buy Pat this morning."
"Run round to the George Yard and ask Brown to step here a minute, if
he's still there."
Two or three messengers at once darted away.
"Anything else in proof?"
"He'll do tricks for me, sir."
And Dick stooped and whispered in Pat's ear, and the dog, not at all
abashed by the cheers and laughter of the crowd, begged and danced and
sang in his very best manner, till Mr. Brown appeared, driving his
carrier's van, for he was just starting again for the homeward journey.
His emphatic testimony settled what nobody doubted, and the officer
prepared to take the showman to the lock-up.
But Dick's only desire was to get away as soon as possible on his
delayed journey, and he begged that nothing more might be said about
prosecution.
So the showman was allowed to go, scowling and muttering, and the crowd
jeered as he went, though more than one present would have been willing
to risk stealing and its penalties for the possession of Pat.
"Best get away at once, and don't let him out of your sight again,"
said the man in blue, kindly. "That dog's too fetching to be on the
road with such a small owner."
"Better both jump up into the van and go back with me to Turningham,"
said carrier Brown. "I want a boy to help with the horse and do odd
jobs about the shop, and I know the missus would take to you and the
dog. You've been a brave boy and a smart one to-day. Eighteen-pence a
week and your keep to begin. Come, now!"
But Dick shook his head.
"I'm ever so much obliged, sir, but I must go on to Ironboro', whatever
happens."
"Well, then, take my advice and train it as far as your money will go.
A ticket for thirty or forty miles will get you beyond the beat of
these fair folks, and be cheaper than tramping in the end. Jump up,
and I'll drive round by the station and see about a train. Nonsense
about trouble. You've saved me more than that to-day."
Dick made a rapid calculation, and felt that he could not spend more
wisely the rider's half-crown, and, indeed, all the wonderful takings
of the day, and in a few minutes he found himself in the corner of a
third class carriage, bound northwards, with a ticket good for forty
miles of travel in his hand, and Pat's fare "seen to" by his
kind-hearted friend.