I MAY say I went over the distance to the town quicker than it’s been
done this long while. I hid the carving-knife in the hedge, for fear of
tripping over it. The apothecary’s was open, as I thought, for he was
churchwarden, and couldna go agen the parson. I never saw the big green
and red bottles look so beautiful, as if they were full of water from
Paradise river. Inside there was a pleasant dusk, for the little window
was so close-set with liniments and medicines, drenches for horses,
simples for cows, plaisters, cordials, and bunches of yarbs that you
couldna see at all. It smelt very pleasantly of peppermint, yarbs and
soap, and the apothecary looked at me kindly over his spectacles and
asked what the matter was.
“Why, sir, it’s murder, pretty nigh,” I says. “I do beseech you to shut
up the shop and come, or such a man as this town never saw afore, nor
will again, will be done to death.”
He pulled on his boots, good man, at that.
“What remedies must I bring?” he says. “You can tell me the rest as we
run.”
So I told him summat for dog-bites and summat to bring a man round when
he was near death. In a minute he clapped his hat on, and off we went.
“Take a sup of brandy,” he says. “You’re nigh done.”
But I told him, no, only if I fell behind he must hasten on to the
bull-ring.
I fell back just afore we got to the carving-knife, and caught up again
at the field gate. As we came in I could see an awful struggle going on,
for we were only just in time. He’d finished but for Grimble’s dog.
As we came up there was a roar. He’d got the dog chained. Then there was
another roar, and I saw (oh, my dear love!) that the dog had got him by
the throat.