That fall Master was elected to the legislature--whatever that is--and
was gone pretty nearly all winter.
I did not like it at all; for though Chet dare not injure me outright,
he was at times very disagreeable, and I never felt safe a minute about
the other animals. I did hope he would go off and study medicine, as he
sometimes talked of doing.
When Master came home to stay he seemed quite elated over some law they
had made for the protection of dumb brutes, but he said it would be a
long while before officials generally would be faithful in its
enforcement.
That was an unusually busy spring with the doctors, and Chet managed the
farm to suit himself. Among other barbarous things he did, and allowed
to be done by Paddy, who had come to work for us, was tying the young
calves to stakes and leaving them there without food or water for hours.
Of course, at first there was a little grass for them to nibble, but
this was soon gone. Often their ropes became wound around the stakes
until they could only stand helpless, with their heads drawn closely
down.
One pretty little heifer ("Rosebud," Bobby called her) was thus tied,
and getting wound up, died a slow, torturous death. After this event he
put all the young animals in a small, barren lot, where the scenes of
the days of the Stringers were re-enacted. Day and night there were
piteous calls for something besides dry hay. Once a day a large trough
was filled with water, but this the older, stronger animals quickly
drank up, and the younger, weaker ones had to go without.
One calf had its leg broken in a vain effort to slake its burning
thirst. With a moan of pain it dragged itself away to a fence corner and
sank exhausted. Days it lingered there. A few times Carm and Paddy
carried it a pail of skimmed milk or water, barely enough to prolong its
agony, I thought. The supposition was that it had only hurt its leg, and
would soon be better. Master was scarcely ever at home in daylight, and
Bobby was made to believe the calf would soon be well. When they found
it dead, its poor, parched tongue protruding from its mouth, and a look
of mute reproach yet in its sightless eyes, they dragged it away as
unconcernedly as if it had been a stick of wood.
Several times Chet tore suckling-calves from their mother's side and
permitted rough men to lead, or rather drag, the pleading, frightened
creatures off, paying no heed to the mother's wild agony unless to speak
some hard, profane word to her.
Every living creature on the place soon learned to fear and hate him.
In selling any living thing he seemed to try and invent the most cruel
modes of transportation, putting calves, sheep or poultry in such small
cases that they would be piled on top of each other. In driving sheep,
there were always serious accidents happening, and many a time has he
driven fat hogs in the heat and dust until one would fall by the
wayside, and then he would kick it to death.
You would not take him for such a man, just seeing him about. Ordinarily
he had a low, soft voice, and gentle winning ways.
His influence over his brothers and the hired men was very bad.
Somebody sent him a fine bird dog, as a present.
"At last," I thought, "he has something that he will be good to."
A friend came to visit him, and, taking Topsy and Bulow, the dog, they
went for prairie chickens.
Dr. Dick and I were gone when they returned, but Topsy told me about it.
She said that Bulow seemed so happy on the way out, and that the men
sounded his praise continually.
"A fine fellow, worth fifty dollars," was his master's verdict.
After a while the dog scared up a covey of chickens, and the men--rising
in their seats--shot into them.
"Bring in the birds," Chet said. Bulow stood by them, but refused to
touch them. Again and again the order was repeated, but still the animal
refused.
Chet grew white with passion.
"Never mind, Wallace," said his friend. "Some dogs--good ones,
too--never make retrievers. Something in their early training was
wrong."
"Bring those birds here!" roared Chet, paying no heed.
The poor dog trembled from head to foot, but stood as if made of stone.
A moment more and Chet had raised his gun to his shoulder and fired,
filling the dumb creature's hips with shot. With a piteous whine the dog
dropped to the ground.
"Get up and come here!" roared his master.
With an obedience that ought to have shamed the hard-hearted wretch, the
animal dragged himself up and to his master's feet, blood trickling from
a score or more shot holes.
"Now, go bring that bird here."
"I never saw such a look of piteous agony in eyes, human or brute,
before," Topsy exclaimed vehemently. "It was terrible!"
"Let up, Wallace; don't be a fool," cried his companion, touched by the
mute suffering.
"He'll mind me or I'll brain him," hissed Chet, quite beside himself.
"Go!"
Bulow crouched lower and feebly essayed to lick his master's boot.
With an oath, the latter brought the butt of the gun down on his
defenceless head, once, twice, thrice, and then there was a convulsive
struggle and a dead dog lay weltering in his own blood.
At another time, when Carm owned a common mongrel dog, there was a cat
and three well-grown kittens at the barn. Master and Bobby had petted
them until they were perfectly tame.
For some reason or other, Chet determined that they must die, but
instead of humanely killing them, he bade Tommy set the dog on them.
This just suited the lad.
Getting them all together, he gave the dog his orders. It happened right
in my sight, and all I could do was to kick and neigh, but no one paid
any attention. Carm and Tommy were enjoying what they called "the fun."
The first kitten fought valiantly, but soon the cruel teeth sank in her
throat and she lay limp.
It took a long and exciting chase to get hold of another one.
The boys cheered lustily as the kitten fought for the life so precious
to it, and the dog shook and bit it.
I wondered how the former could claim to be human and yet stand unmoved
at the pleading and terror in the poor little face.
So cruel to thus turn upon the happy, innocent creatures, and that, too,
on the very spot they had learned to love as home!
Little Gray (as Bobby called her) was a mangled mass of wet fur and
blood when the dog quit her, and less than an hour before she had played
so prettily with her mates.
Just then Bobby came out, hearing the boys' shouts of glee.
She screamed at sight of her dead pets, and, flying at the dog, beat him
with a piece of board.
"Tom set him on," said Carm.
"I'll tell Uncle Dick, that I will, and papa, too," the angry maiden
cried.
"Chet told me to," said Tommy.
"He did? Well, if there was anything in this world that he loved, I'd
kill it," she declared with blazing eyes, "but he don't love anything."
There were high words between Chet and Master that noon, and I heard the
former mutter as he walked off:
"Old meddler, I'll give you something to make a row about one of these
times."
A few days later, poor old puss, while looking for mice in a bin of
grain, put her paw into a steel trap that had been placed there by
Tommy, on purpose.
"I'll finish this cat somehow," he said.
It was late at night when puss was caught, that is, after the work was
all done, and I cannot bear to even think of the torture she must have
endured all those long hours until daylight.
Paddy found her when he went for oats.
"Mercy on us!" he cried, as he caught sight of the wild, glaring
eyeballs. She was almost mad with the long strain and agony.
Not daring to touch her, he ran for a gun, but the boys, suspecting what
was going on, rushed into the barn ahead of him, and shouted with
fiendish glee when they saw her.
"Pull her out," shouted Tommy, and loosing the chain that held the trap,
they flung that and the suffering creature rudely on the floor. Her paw
was crushed at the main joint.
I can never forget the look in her eyes as she watched Paddy point the
gun, but I am thankful that the next moment ended her misery.
Delighted with his success at "trapping," as he called it, Tommy
rearranged the trap, but, unknown to him, Paddy removed and hid it.
"It's jest the way with half the folks in the world," the latter
muttered; "they have hearts like flint stones."
And I knew his words were true, else people would be more considerate
and merciful.