“To bravest heart, the tenderest touch belongs.”
It is evening, and the family party, young and old, are gathered on the
porch, talking over the pleasures of the past day, whilst Ranger lies
close at Mr. Harwood’s feet.
Mr. Haven remarks, “That’s a grand mastiff, Fred, but what has become
of my old friend Tiger? How much he used to enjoy your yachting
parties! How his tail showed the interest he took in our fishing, and
how frantic he became whenever a fine fish was drawn on board! He was a
nice fellow, I should like to see him again.”
“His disappearance has never fully been accounted for,” replied Mr.
Harwood. “Perhaps, Artie, you and Daisy have never heard how Ranger
came to us?”
“No, sir,” eagerly answered the children. “Is there a story about it?”
“You may be sure, youngsters,” Papa laughingly interposed, “that where
there’s a dog there’s sure to be a tale.”
“Yes, sir,” quickly added Jem, “but it isn’t every dog that leaves a
tale behind him.”
“You are right, Jem, I yield the point, and ask the company’s pardon
for keeping the tale hanging.”
“Your Aunt Gertrude,” continued Mr. Havens, “has a brother, an Army
Surgeon, who was at one time stationed at a Florida fort close by the
Everglades.”
“Papa,” said Kit, “hadn’t you better explain to the children what
Everglades are?--one time I didn’t know myself.”
“That is right, Kit. There is a part of Florida, as large, I should
think, as the whole State of Massachusetts, which is covered with
water. Tall grass and reeds grow up in this water, and occasionally
small islands are found, covered with trees and tangled vines. Some
of our most beautiful flowering vines, such as the Wisteria, with its
purple clusters of blossoms, which you see hanging from the posts of
our back piazza, and the sweet-scented jessamine, are brought from
those islands which are homes for snakes, alligators, wild boars, and
wolves. Indians used often to hide themselves in these Everglades,
and come down in their canoes by night and attack the neighboring
settlements. In order to protect the lives of the people near, the
United States erected a fort close by, and the soldiers were constantly
sent out from it into these Everglades to hunt out the Indians. It was
soon found that some other plan must be adopted, for soldiers died
rapidly, as those places were filled with a very unhealthy atmosphere
called _miasma_, much like that of the jungles you have heard of in
India, where the only paths are those which the wild beasts make on
their way to find water. Wolves and tigers hide there in the dark
thickets to spring out upon travellers, and huge boa-constrictors hang
from the branches of the trees ready to spring down, wind themselves
around their victims, and crush them instantly.
“There are fierce wild animals in the Florida Everglades, but the
atmosphere is just about as fatal to life.
“The soldiers having died in great numbers, large mastiffs, or
bloodhounds, were sent in the Everglades to do the work, but the hounds
would not serve the soldiers. Perhaps the Indians made friends with
them, or they liked the wild life and plenteous game of the glades;
however that may be, the hounds all disappeared, and nothing was heard
of them for a long time, excepting an occasional baying during the
stillness of the night.
“One day, one of them, this very Ranger, came back to the fort,
terribly mangled, his body torn open by the polished tusks of the wild
boar, and, with what seemed human reason, the poor, suffering creature
made his way directly up to the surgeon’s quarters, and presented his
case to Uncle Lee, who always had a great fondness for animals of every
sort. He examined the wound carefully, and found it would be necessary
to sew it up at once; but this his brother officers entreated him not
to attempt. They said it would be foolhardy, for at the first prick of
the needle, the animal would, of course, turn upon the hand that gave
the pain, and fearfully injure him.
“Uncle Lee hesitated; but the dog looked up piteously in his face, as
if saying,
“‘You are my only hope,’ and he could not resist that look of entreaty.
“The officers, seeing he was determined, surrounded the animal; one
stood with loaded musket aimed at his head, so that at the first
attempt on his part to injure the surgeon, he could shoot him instantly.
“It must have been a thrilling scene, that savage bloodhound standing
so patient, Uncle Lee, with face white as a sheet, and his friends
silent from dread and terror. An officer present, wrote me of it in
these words:
“‘Only for a moment was Lee’s face pale, and then the man was forgotten
in the surgeon. Moment after moment the sharp steel pierced the hound’s
quivering flesh. The animal was mute, only once turning his head toward
the surgeon; but there was no need of pistol then; he had only turned
to lick the surgeon’s hand, as if to encourage him to proceed. He
remained at the fort till the wound had perfectly healed, and then, one
day, disappeared, to the great grief of all the garrison, with whom he
had become a great pet.’
“He was gone about two days, and on the evening of the second, knocked
with his huge paw at the surgeon’s door, lay down by his bed, and from
that hour has been his most devoted servant. The soldiers thought he
must have gone back to the Everglades to settle up some old debts, and
then returned for a quiet life of devotion to his kind friend.
“When Lee came to visit us, the hound took a great fancy to your Aunt
Gertrude, and was content to let his master go to Europe without him.
Think how that creature, once so bloodthirsty, boys, has been changed
by kind treatment, and then tell me what there is that kindness and
gentleness cannot accomplish. He guards our little Bessie’s cradle
carefully now, and licks her soft cheeks with gentle affection.”
“But, Papa,” broke in the two boys, “you mustn’t forget to tell about
Tiger’s disappearance.”
“You must know,” continued Papa, “our old dog had never had a rival in
the dog line, and when he came in the house the day of Uncle Lee’s
arrival, and found Ranger, quite at home in the hall, surrounded by the
children, all admiring and stroking his glossy skin, a look of anger
and great disgust came over his face, and then he ran quickly out of
the house, across the lawn, and out of the gate, up on the public road.
In vain the tender-hearted children followed him, calling him to come
back; he never once turned.
“He has been gone now two years, and we have not yet discovered his
home; but very often we see him watching us through the fence, and if
the children are on the way to the shore, and Ranger is not with them,
he will follow them, but always remaining in the lane, and keeping the
fence between him and them.”
“Except once, Papa, you remember--don’t you?”
“Yes, children; I shall not soon forget that day. Kit and Larry
Holmes, a neighbor’s child, were launching their toy boats down in the
little cove yonder. Kit had been up to the house to get his knife,
and scrambling hastily down the steep bank, lost his footing and fell
several feet, striking his head upon a sharp rock.
“Larry was a timid boy, and was so terrified by the sight of his
companion lying as if dead, and covered with blood, that he ran away as
far and fast as possible.
“Tiger must have been watching near, for Mamma, sitting in her room,
was startled by a heavy knocking at her door, and opening it, found
old Tiger, leaping about as if to show his joy; but when she stooped
to fondle him, he impatiently broke from her and started for the
hall-door, looking back to see if she followed, and if she stopped,
he pulled her dress, and seemed imploring. Suddenly Mamma remembered
she had seen from her window Kit and Larry going toward the shore with
their gayly-painted ship. Just then her eye caught sight of the tiny
vessel wrecked on a small rock, a little way out, but her heart sank as
she saw no trace, heard no sound of the little captains.
“Presently she saw Tiger plunge down a steep bank, and following his
lead, found poor Kit lying insensible on the shore, covered with blood.
“Your aunt lifted the boy’s head upon her lap, and bathed it with cold
water, then looked about in hope some one might be on the shore whom
she might hail to come and help her. No one was in sight; then suddenly
came the thought, as she noticed Tiger whining and pulling at the boy’s
jacket.
“‘Why, Tiger is of the St. Bernard breed--dogs trained to carry on
their backs travellers exhausted in their efforts to cross the snowy
Alps--I will try to make him of use.’
“The dog stood perfectly quiet whilst she laid the boy upon his back,
and then off they started, Tiger walking slowly along the shore till he
came to a gentle slope of the bank, and then he turned toward home.
“At the door stood the pony-cart, with Jem and his sisters, just
returned from the village; so pony’s head was instantly turned toward
Bristol to summon Dr. Jones and myself.
“In the confusion, Tiger was for a moment forgotten, and when
remembered, the most careful search could not reveal his whereabouts.
He still visits the lane, and thrusts his nose through the bars,
or follows the children to the shore, but no amount of coaxing can
persuade him to come into the lawn.”
As Mr. Harwood finished his account of Tiger’s disappearance, a
rattling of wheels on the gravel road was heard, and from behind the
house appeared a most distressed-looking old man, with slouched hat
drawn over his eyes, and coat and pants hanging in tatters about him,
dragging a wagon in which was seated an immense gray cat, with a
dark-brown tail dragging over the wagon’s back. Upon her head was a
broad-frilled cap, and green goggles hid her eyes. The old cat bowed,
first on one side, and then on the other, waving as she did so a
lighted torch she held in her hand.
The man halted in the centre of the lawn, and sang, with cracked
voice, a few verses of a comic song, and suddenly ended with a loud
“Ha! ha!” and jumped right over pussy-cat, wagon, and lighted torch.
Then came such a whizzing, buzzing, crackling, and banging, as is
seldom heard either side of the Fourth of July, whilst the old man
dashed wildly about, showers of sparks flying in all directions from
his coat and hat.
Rosie and Jack would have been frightened had they not been safely
held on Papa’s lap, and Aunt Gertrude, who had her arm tightly clasped
about Charlie Leonard, had whispered some words which had made him
quite ready to join the general clapping that followed, for was not
the giant, gray puss, with long, black tail, our own “Ned,” his face
covered with a fur mask, and body by an old fur cape, whilst the long
tail was Mamma’s boa, which the saucy rogue had helped himself to.
Sarah laughed till the tears run down her cheeks, as, seated upon the
carriage-block, she tells Charlotte and Nan,
“How this werry night she had hunted for them glasses from Dan to
Beersheby, and had she a had ’em she should have ’spied her Sunday
stay-at-home-from-meeting cap was a-missin’. But if it gives them
young uns a saffishfacthun, as is got such tender hearts allers, Sarah
Jenkins’ll not say the first word if the cap be used up entirely. For
if young folks can’t take their liberties on the Fourth of July, she’d
like, for one, to know what freedom was fought for, anyway.”
Papa explained that Jem, the man so “tattered and torn,” had
privately fastened pin-wheels on his hat, and sewed several packs of
fire-crackers to the lining of the coat, and pussy-cat had taken good
care that when he leaped over her, his coat-tails should brush against
the lighted torch and give a voice to the many squibs.