The rat hadn't a chance to get away. I was right on to him. I got hold
of his neck, gave him a couple of shakes, and chucked him across the
room. Then I ran across to finish him off.
Just as I reached him, he sat up and barked at me. I was never so taken
aback in my life. I pulled up short and stared at him.
'I'm sure I beg your pardon, sir,' I said apologetically. 'I thought
you were a rat.'
And then everything broke loose. Somebody got me by the collar,
somebody else hit me on the head with a parasol, and somebody else
kicked me in the ribs. Everybody talked and shouted at the same time.
'Poor darling Toto!' cried the visitor, snatching up the little animal.
'Did the great savage brute try to murder you!'
'So absolutely unprovoked!'
'He just flew at the poor little thing!'
It was no good my trying to explain. Any dog in my place would have
made the same mistake. The creature was a toy-dog of one of those
extraordinary breeds--a prize-winner and champion, and so on, of
course, and worth his weight in gold. I would have done better to bite
the visitor than Toto. That much I gathered from the general run of the
conversation, and then, having discovered that the door was shut, I
edged under the sofa. I was embarrassed.
'That settles it!' said Peter's mother. 'The dog is not safe. He must
be shot.'
Peter gave a yell at this, but for once he didn't swing the voting an
inch.
'Be quiet, Peter,' said his mother. 'It is not safe for you to have
such a dog. He may be mad.'
Women are very unreasonable.
Toto, of course, wouldn't say a word to explain how the mistake arose.
He was sitting on the visitor's lap, shrieking about what he would have
done to me if they hadn't separated us.
Somebody felt cautiously under the sofa. I recognized the shoes of
Weeks, the butler. I suppose they had rung for him to come and take me,
and I could see that he wasn't half liking it. I was sorry for Weeks,
who was a friend of mine, so I licked his hand, and that seemed to
cheer him up a whole lot.
'I have him now, madam,' I heard him say.
'Take him to the stables and tie him up, Weeks, and tell one of the men
to bring his gun and shoot him. He is not safe.'
A few minutes later I was in an empty stall, tied up to the manger.
It was all over. It had been pleasant while it lasted, but I had
reached the end of my tether now. I don't think I was frightened, but a
sense of pathos stole over me. I had meant so well. It seemed as if
good intentions went for nothing in this world. I had tried so hard to
please everybody, and this was the result--tied up in a dark stable,
waiting for the end.
The shadows lengthened in the stable-yard, and still nobody came. I
began to wonder if they had forgotten me, and presently, in spite of
myself, a faint hope began to spring up inside me that this might mean
that I was not to be shot after all. Perhaps Toto at the eleventh hour
had explained everything.
And then footsteps sounded outside, and the hope died away. I shut my
eyes.
Somebody put his arms round my neck, and my nose touched a warm cheek.
I opened my eyes. It was not the man with the gun come to shoot me. It
was Peter. He was breathing very hard, and he had been crying.
'Quiet!' he whispered.
He began to untie the rope.
'You must keep quite quiet, or they will hear us, and then we shall be
stopped. I'm going to take you into the woods, and we'll walk and walk
until we come to the city I told you about that's all gold and
diamonds, and we'll live there for the rest of our lives, and no one
will be able to hurt us. But you must keep very quiet.'
He went to the stable-gate and looked out. Then he gave a little
whistle to me to come after him. And we started out to find the city.
The woods were a long way away, down a hill of long grass and across a
stream; and we went very carefully, keeping in the shadows and running
across the open spaces. And every now and then we would stop and look
back, but there was nobody to be seen. The sun was setting, and
everything was very cool and quiet.
Presently we came to the stream and crossed it by a little wooden
bridge, and then we were in the woods, where nobody could see us.
I had never been in the woods before, and everything was very new and
exciting to me. There were squirrels and rabbits and birds, more than I
had ever seen in my life, and little things that buzzed and flew and
tickled my ears. I wanted to rush about and look at everything, but
Peter called to me, and I came to heel. He knew where we were going,
and I didn't, so I let him lead.
We went very slowly. The wood got thicker and thicker the farther we
got into it. There were bushes that were difficult to push through, and
long branches, covered with thorns, that reached out at you and tore at
you when you tried to get away. And soon it was quite dark, so dark
that I could see nothing, not even Peter, though he was so close. We
went slower and slower, and the darkness was full of queer noises. From
time to time Peter would stop, and I would run to him and put my nose
in his hand. At first he patted me, but after a while he did not pat me
any more, but just gave me his hand to lick, as if it was too much for
him to lift it. I think he was getting very tired. He was quite a small
boy and not strong, and we had walked a long way.
It seemed to be getting darker and darker. I could hear the sound of
Peter's footsteps, and they seemed to drag as he forced his way through
the bushes. And then, quite suddenly, he sat down without any warning,
and when I ran up I heard him crying.
I suppose there are lots of dogs who would have known exactly the right
thing to do, but I could not think of anything except to put my nose
against his cheek and whine. He put his arm round my neck, and for a
long time we stayed like that, saying nothing. It seemed to comfort
him, for after a time he stopped crying.
I did not bother him by asking about the wonderful city where we were
going, for he was so tired. But I could not help wondering if we were
near it. There was not a sign of any city, nothing but darkness and odd
noises and the wind singing in the trees. Curious little animals, such
as I had never smelt before, came creeping out of the bushes to look at
us. I would have chased them, but Peter's arm was round my neck and I
could not leave him. But when something that smelt like a rabbit came
so near that I could have reached out a paw and touched it, I turned my
head and snapped; and then they all scurried back into the bushes and
there were no more noises.
There was a long silence. Then Peter gave a great gulp.
'I'm not frightened,' he said. 'I'm not!'
I shoved my head closer against his chest. There was another silence
for a long time.
'I'm going to pretend we have been captured by brigands,' said Peter at
last. 'Are you listening? There were three of them, great big men with
beards, and they crept up behind me and snatched me up and took me out
here to their lair. This is their lair. One was called Dick, the
others' names were Ted and Alfred. They took hold of me and brought me
all the way through the wood till we got here, and then they went off,
meaning to come back soon. And while they were away, you missed me and
tracked me through the woods till you found me here. And then the
brigands came back, and they didn't know you were here, and you kept
quite quiet till Dick was quite near, and then you jumped out and bit
him and he ran away. And then you bit Ted and you bit Alfred, and they
ran away too. And so we were left all alone, and I was quite safe
because you were here to look after me. And then--And then--'
His voice died away, and the arm that was round my neck went limp, and
I could hear by his breathing that he was asleep. His head was resting
on my back, but I didn't move. I wriggled a little closer to make him
as comfortable as I could, and then I went to sleep myself.
I didn't sleep very well. I had funny dreams all the time, thinking
these little animals were creeping up close enough out of the bushes
for me to get a snap at them without disturbing Peter.
If I woke once, I woke a dozen times, but there was never anything
there. The wind sang in the trees and the bushes rustled, and far away
in the distance the frogs were calling.
And then I woke once more with the feeling that this time something
really was coming through the bushes. I lifted my head as far as I
could, and listened. For a little while nothing happened, and then,
straight in front of me, I saw lights. And there was a sound of
trampling in the undergrowth.
It was no time to think about not waking Peter. This was something
definite, something that had to be attended to quick. I was up with a
jump, yelling. Peter rolled off my back and woke up, and he sat there
listening, while I stood with my front paws on him and shouted at the
men. I was bristling all over. I didn't know who they were or what they
wanted, but the way I looked at it was that anything could happen in
those woods at that time of night, and, if anybody was coming along to
start something, he had got to reckon with me.