BULL-DOG.
A curious group as they sit staring into the fire. Juno and Juno's
daughter Bess, brindles both, with their underhanging lower jaws, and
their black noses and wrinkled faces, and Jack Simpson, now six years
old, sitting between them, as grave and as immovable as his supporters.
One dog is on either side of him and his arms are thrown round their
broad backs. Mrs. Haden is laying the table for her husband's return;
she glances occasionally at the quiet group in front of the fire, and
mutters to herself: "I never did see such a child in all my born days."
Presently a sudden and simultaneous pricking of the closely-cropped ears
of Juno and Bess proclaim that among the many footsteps outside they
have detected the tread of their master.
Jack accepts the intimation and struggles up to his feet just as Bill
Haden lifts the latch and enters.
"It's a fine day, Bill," his wife said.
"Be it?" the collier replied in return. "I took no note o't. However it
doant rain, and that's all I cares for. And how's the dogs? Did you give
Juno that physic ball I got for her?"
"It's no manner of use, Bill, leaving they messes wi' me. I ha' tould
you so scores o' times. She woant take it from me. She sets her jaws
that fast that horses could na pull 'em apart, and all the while I'm
trying she keeps oop a growl like t' organ at the church. She's a' right
wi'out the physic, and well nigh pinned Mrs. Brice when she came in
to-day to borrow a flatiron. She was that frighted she skirled out and
well nigh fainted off. I had to send Jack round to the "Chequers" for
two o' gin before she came round."
"Mrs. Brice is a fool and you're another," Bill said. "Now, ooman, just
take off my boots for oim main tired. What be you staring at, Jack? Were
you nearly pinning Mother Brice too?"
"I doant pin folk, I doant," Jack said sturdily. "I kicks 'em, I do, but
I caught hold o' Juno's tail, and held on. And look 'ee here, dad, I've
been a thinking, doant 'ee lift I oop by my ears no more, not yet. They
are boath main sore. I doant believe neither Juno nor Bess would stand
bein lifted oop by their ears, not if they were sore. I be game enough,
I be, but till my ears be well you must try some other part. I expect
the cheek would hurt just as bad, so you can try that."
"I do wish, Bill, you would not try these tricks on the boy. He's game
enough, and if you'd ha' seen him fighting to-day with Mrs. Jackson's
Bill, nigh twice as big as himself, you'd ha' said so too; but it ain't
Christian-like to try children the same way as pups, and really his ears
are sore, awful sore. I chanced t' notice 'em when I washed his face
afore he went to school, and they be main bad, I tell 'ee."
"Coom here," the miner said to Jack. "Aye, they be sore surely; why
didn't 'ee speak afore, Jack? I doant want to hurt 'ee, lad."
"I wa'n't going to speak," Jack said. "Mother found it out, and said
she'd tell 'ee o't; but the last two nights I were well nigh yelping
when 'ee took me up."
"You're a good plucked 'un, Jack," Bill Haden said, "and I owt not t' ha
done it, but I didn't think it hurt 'ee, leastways not more nor a boy
owt to be hurt, to try if 'ee be game!"
"And what's you and t' dogs been doing to-day, Jack?" the miner asked,
as he began at his dinner.
"We went for a walk, dad, after school, out in the lanes; we saw a big
black cat, and t' dogs chased her into a tree, then we got 't a pond,
and d'ye know, dad, Bess went in and swam about, she did!"
"She did?" the miner said sharply. "Coom here, Bess;" and leaving his
meal, he began anxiously to examine the bull-dog's eyes and listened
attentively to her breathing. "That were a rum start for a bull too,
Jack. She doant seem to ha' taken no harm, but maybe it ain't showed
itself. Mother, you give her some hot grub t' night. Doant you let her
go in t' water again, Jack. What on airth made her tak it into her head
to go into t' water noo, I wonder?"
"I can't help it if she wants to," Jack said; "she doant mind I, not
when she doant want to mind. I welted her t'other day when she wanted to
go a't parson's coo, but she got hold o' t' stick and pulled it out o'
my hand."
"And quite raight too," Bill Haden said; "don't 'ee try to welt they
dogs, or I'll welt thee!"
"I doant care," the child said sturdily; "if I goes out in charge o'
they dogs, theys got to mind me, and how can I make 'em mind me if I
doant welt 'em? What would 'ee say to I if Bess got had up afore the
court for pinning t' parson's coo?"
As no ready reply occurred to Bill Haden to this question he returned to
his meal. Juno and Bess watched him gravely till he had finished, and
then, having each received a lump of meat put carefully aside for them,
returned to the fire. Jack, curling himself up beside them, lay with his
head on Juno's body and slept till Mrs. Haden, having cleared the table
and washed up the things, sent him out to play, her husband having at
the conclusion of his meal lighted his pipe and strolled over to the
"Chequers."
Bill Haden had, according to his lights, been a good father to the child
of his old mate Simpson. He treated him just as if he had been his own.
He spent twopence a day less in beer than before, and gave his wife
fourteen pence in addition to her weekly money for household expenses,
for milk for the kid, just as he allowed twopence a day each for bones
for Juno and Bess. He also when requested by his wife handed over what
sum was required for clothing and shoes, not without grumbling, however,
and comparisons as to the wants of dorgs and boys, eminently
unfavourable to the latter. The weekly twopence for schooling Mrs. Haden
had, during the year that Jack had been at school, paid out of her
housekeeping money, knowing that the expenses of the dogs afforded no
precedent whatever for such a charge.
Bill Haden was, however, liberal to the boy in many ways, and when in a
good temper would often bestow such halfpence as he might have in his
pocket upon him, and now and then taking him with him into town,
returned with such clothes and shoes that "mother" held up her hands at
the extravagance.
Among his young companions Jack was liked but feared. When he had money
he would purchase bull's-eyes, and collecting all his acquaintances,
distribute them among them; but he was somewhat sedate and old-fashioned
in his ways, from his close friendships with such thoughtful and
meditative animals as Juno and Bess, and when his wrath was excited he
was terrible. Never uttering a cry, however much hurt, he would fight
with an obstinacy and determination which generally ended by giving him
the victory, for if he once got hold of an antagonist's hair--pinning
coming to him naturally--no amount of blows or ill-treatment could
force him to leave go until his agonized opponent confessed himself
vanquished.
It was not often, however, that Jack came in contact with the children
of his own age. His duties as guardian of the "dorgs" absorbed the
greater part of his time, and as one or both of these animals generally
accompanied him when he went beyond the door, few cared about having
anything to say to him when so attended; for the guardianship was by no
means entirely on his side, and however excellent their qualities and
pure their breed, neither Juno nor Bess were animals with whom strangers
would have ventured upon familiarity.
Jack's reports to his "dad" of Bess's inclination to attack t' parson's
coo was not without effect, although Bill Haden had made no remark at
the time. That night, however, he observed to his wife: "I've been a
thinking it over, Jane, and I be come to the opinion that it's better t'
boy should not go out any more wi' t' dorgs. Let 'em bide at home, I'll
take 'em oot when they need it. If Bess takes it into her head to pin a
coo there might be trouble, an I doan't want trouble. Her last litter o'
pups brought me a ten pun note, and if they had her oop at 'a court and
swore her life away as a savage brute, which she ain't no way, it would
pretty nigh break my heart."
The execution of this, as of many other good intentions, however, was
postponed until an event happened which led to Jack's being definitely
relieved of the care of his canine friends.
Two years had passed, when one morning Jack was calmly strolling along
the road accompanied by Juno and Bess. A gig came rapidly along
containing two young bagmen, as commercial travellers were still called
in Stokebridge. The driver, seeing a child with two dogs, conceived that
this was a favourable opportunity for a display of that sense of playful
humour whose point lies in the infliction of pain on others, without any
danger of personal consequences to the inflictor.
With a sharp sweep he brought down his whip across Jack's back, managing
to include Bess in the stroke.
Jack set up a shout of mingled pain and indignation, and stooping for a
stone, hurled it after the man who had struck him. Bess's response to
the assault upon her was silent, but as prompt and far more effectual.
With two springs she was beside the horse, and leaping up caught it by
the nostrils and dragged it to the ground.
Juno at once joined in the fray, and made desperate attempts to climb
into the gig and seize its inmates, who had nearly been thrown out as
the horse fell.
Recovering himself, the driver, pale with terror, clubbed his whip, and
struck at Juno with the butt-end.
"Don't 'ee hit her," Jack cried as he arrived on the spot; "if thou dost
she'll tear 'ee limb from limb."
"Call the brute off, you little rascal," cried the other, "it's killing
the horse."
"Thou'd best keep a civil tongue in thy head," the child said coolly,
"or it will be bad for 'ee. What did 'ee hit I and Bess for? It would
serve 'ee roight if she had pinned 'ee instead o' t' horse."
"Call them off," the fellow shouted as Juno's teeth met in close
proximity to his leg.
"It be all very well to say call 'em orf," Jack said, "but they doan't
moind I much. Have 'ee got a strap?"
The man hastily threw down a strap, and this Jack passed through Juno's
collar, she being too absorbed in her efforts to climb into the gig to
heed what the child was doing; then he buckled it to the wheel.
"Noo," he said, "ye can light down t' other side. She caan't reach 'ee
there."
The young men leapt down, and ran to the head of the horse; the poor
brute was making frantic efforts to rise, but the bull-dog held him down
with her whole might.
Jack shouted and pulled, but in vain; Bess paid no attention to his
voice.
"Can you bite his tail?" one of the frightened men said; "I've heard
that is good."
"Boite her tail!" Jack said in contempt; "doan't yer see she's a
full-bred un; ye moight boite her tail off, and she would care nowt
about 't. I've got summat here that may do."
He drew out a twisted paper from his pocket.
"This is snuff," he said; "if owt will make her loose, this will. Now
one o' yer take holt by her collar on each side, and hoult tight, yer
know, or she'll pin ye when she leaves go o' the horse. Then when she
sneezes you pull her orf, and hoult fast."
The fear of the men that the horse would be killed overpowered their
dread of the dog, and each took a firm grip upon its collar. Then Jack
placed a large pinch of snuff to its nostrils. A minute later it took
effect, the iron jaws unclosed with a snap, and in an instant Bess was
snatched away from the horse, which, delivered from its terrible foe,
sank back groaning on the road. Bess made the most furious attempts to
free herself from her captors, but in vain, and Juno strained
desperately at the strap to come to the assistance of her offspring.
"Ha' ye got another strap?" Jack asked.
"There's a chain in the box under the seat."
Jack with some difficulty and an amount of deliberation for which the
men could gladly have slain him, climbed up into the gig, and presently
came back with the chain.
"Noo tak' her round to t' other side o' gig," he said; "we'll fasten her
just as Juno is."
When Bess was securely chained to the wheel the men ran to raise the
horse, who lay with its head in a pool of blood.
"There's a pond in yon field," Jack said, "if 'ee wants water."
After Bess was secured Jack had slipped round to Juno, and kept his hand
upon the buckle in readiness to loose her should any attempt be made
upon his personal safety. The men, however, were for the moment too
scared to think of him. It was some time before the horse was got on to
its legs, with a wet cloth wrapped round its bleeding wound. Fortunately
Bess's grip had included the bit-strap as well as the nostrils, and this
had somewhat lessened the serious nature of the hurt.
Jack had by this time pacified the dogs, and when the men looked round,
after getting the horse on to its legs, they were alarmed to see him
standing by quietly holding the dogs by a strap passing through their
collar.
"Doan't 'ee try to get into that ere cart," he said; "you've got to go
wi' me back to Stokebridge to t' lock-oop for hitting I and Bess. Now do
you walk quietly back and lead t' horse, and oi'll walk beside 'ee, and
if thou mov'st, or tries to get away, oi'll slip t' dogs, you see if I
doan't."
"You little villain," began one of the men furiously, but a deep growl
from Bess in reply to the angry tone at once silenced him; and burning
with rage they turned the horse's head back towards the village and
walked on, accompanied by Jack and his dogs on guard.
The arrival of this procession created much excitement, and a crowd of
women and children soon gathered. Jack, however, serenely indifferent
to questions and shouts, proceeded coolly on his way until he arrived at
the residence of the local constable, who, hearing the din, appeared at
his door.
"Maister Johnson," the child says, "I give them chaps in charge for
saulting I and Bess."
"And we give this little ruffian in charge," shouted the men, secure
that, in face of the constable and crowd, Jack could not loose his
terrible bull-dogs, "for setting his dogs at us, to the risk of our
lives and the injury of our horse, which is so much hurt that we believe
it will have to be killed."
Just at this moment Bill Haden--who had returned from work at the moment
that a boy running in reported that there was a row, that a horse was
covered wi' blood, and two chaps all bluidy over t' hands and clothes,
were agoing along wi' Jack and t' dorgs oop street to lock-oop--arrived
upon the spot.
"What's oop, lad?" he asked as he came up.
"They chaps hit I and Bess, dad, and Bess pinned t' horse, and Juno
would ha' pinned 'em boath hadn't I strapped she oop, and then we got
Bess orf, and I brought 'em back to t' lock-oop."
"How dar 'ee hit my lad?" Bill Haden said angrily, stepping forward
threateningly.
"Look oot, dad, or t' dogs will be at 'em again," Jack shouted.
Bill seized the strap from the child's hand, and with a stern word
silenced the dogs.
"Well," the constable said, "I can't do nowt but bring both parties
afore Mr. Brook i' the morning. I suppose I needn't lock 'ee all oop.
Bill, will you bind yourself to produce Jack Simpson t'morrow?"
"Ay," said Bill, "oi'll produce him, and he'll produce hisself, I'm
thinking; seems to me as Jack be able to take 's own part."
This sally was received with laughter and applause, for local feeling
was very strong in Stokebridge, and a storm of jeers and rough chaff
were poured upon the bagmen for having been brought in prisoners by a
child.
"Thee'd best get away to th' inn," the constable said, "else they'll be
a stoaning thee next. There be only two on us here, and if they takes to
't we sha'n't be able to do much."
So the men, leading their horse, went off to the Inn, groaned and hooted
at by the crowd on the way. On their arrival a messenger was at once
sent off for a veterinary surgeon who resided some four miles away.
On the following morning the parties to the quarrel, the two bagmen and
the injured horse on the one hand, and Jack Simpson with the two
bull-dogs under charge of Bill Haden on the other, appeared before Mr.
Brook, owner of the Vaughan pit and a county magistrate.
Jack first gave his account of the transaction, clearly and with much
decision.
"I war a walking along quiet wi' t' dogs," he said, "when I hears a cart
a coming from Stokebridge. I looks round and seed they two chaps, but
didn't mind no further about it till as they came oop that sandy-haired
chap as was a driving lets me and Bess ha' one which made me joomp, I
can tell 'ee. Bess she pinned the horse, and Juno she tried to get into
t' cart at 'em. They were joost frighted, they hollers, and yawps, and
looks as white as may be. I fastens Juno oop wi' a strap and they houlds
Bess while I poot some snoof t' her nose."
"Put what?" Mr. Brook asked.
"Joost a pinch of snoof, sir. I heard feyther say as snoof would make
dogs loose, and so I bought a haporth and carried it in my pocket, for
th' dogs don't moind oi when they are put oot. And then they gets horse
oop and I makes 'em come back to t' lock-oop, but maister Johnson," he
said, looking reproachfully at the constable, "wouldn't lock 'em oop as
I wanted him."
There was some laughter among the audience, and even the magistrate
smiled. The young men then gave their story. They denied point blank
that either of them had struck Jack, and described him as having set his
dog purposely on the horse. Jack had loudly contradicted them, shouting,
'That's a lee;' but had been ordered to silence. Then drawing back he
slipped off his jacket and shirt, and when the evidence was closed he
marched forward up to the magistrate bare to the waist.
"Look at moi back," he said; "that 'ull speak for itself."
It did; there was a red weal across the shoulder, and an angry hiss ran
through the court at the prisoners, which was with difficulty
suppressed.
"After what I have seen," Mr. Brook said, "there is no doubt whatever in
my mind that the version given by this child is the correct one, and
that you committed a cowardly and unprovoked assault upon him. For this
you," he said to the man who had driven the horse, "are fined L5 or a
month's imprisonment. It is a good thing that cowardly fellows like you
should be punished occasionally, and had it not been that your horse had
been severely injured I should have committed you to prison without
option of a fine. Against you," he said to the other, "there is no
evidence of assault. The charge against the child is dismissed, but it
is for the father to consider whether he will prosecute you for perjury.
At the same time I think that dogs of this powerful and ferocious kind
ought not to be allowed to go out under the charge of a child like
this."
The man paid the fine; but so great was the indignation of the crowd
that the constable had to escort them to the railway-station; in spite
of this they were so pelted and hustled on the way that they were
miserable figures indeed when they arrived there.
And so Jack was released from all charge of the "dorgs," and benefited
by the change. New friendships for children of his own age took the
place of that for the dogs, and he soon took part in their games, and,
from the energy and violence with which, when once excited, he threw
himself into them, became quite a popular leader. Mrs. Haden rejoiced
over the change; for he was now far more lively and more like other
children than he had been, although still generally silent except when
addressed by her and drawn into talk. He was as fond as ever of the
dogs, but that fondness was now a part only instead of the dominating
passion of his existence. And so months after months went on and no
event of importance occurred to alter the current of Jack Simpson's
life.