THE BAD DOG
Uncle Ben fastened the last knot of the rope by which he was tying the
rowboats to the launch. Then he glanced quickly up at Lola.
“What’s that you said?” he asked.
“I said a big, white bird is trying to take Trouble away,” answered
Lola.
“Well, why don’t some of you older ones drive it away?” asked Uncle
Ben, hardly thinking of what he was saying. “Are you afraid of a
bird?” he asked.
“Oh, it’s a terrible big bird!” exclaimed Lola, spreading out her arms
like wings. “It’s awful big, Uncle Ben!”
“Is it an eagle?” asked the sailor. “No, it can’t be that, either. I
never heard of a white eagle,” he said.
“I don’t know what it is,” said Lola. “But please hurry, Uncle Ben.
Tom and Ted aren’t there, and Jan is trying to make the big white bird
let go of Trouble, only it won’t let go.”
“It must be a big white owl!” exclaimed Uncle Ben, as he started to
run, for he now heard the cries of Jan and the screams of Baby
William. “I’ve heard of big white owls hurting people, but I thought
owls only flew around at night. They can’t see very well in daylight.”
“Oh, it isn’t an owl!” exclaimed Lola, who was running as fast as she
could to keep up with Uncle Ben. “I’ve seen owls, and they have big
eyes. This bird has big wings and a big, long neck, and it swims in
the lake.”
“Then it isn’t an owl! Owls don’t swim, I’m sure of that!” said Uncle
Ben.
He hurried along, and soon he had crossed the top of the small hill
over which Lola had come to summon his help. Down in a little hollow
on the shore of the lake the sailor saw Trouble and Janet trying to
beat off a big, white bird that had hold of Trouble’s loose bloomers
with its yellow bill.
“Oh, Uncle Ben! Uncle Ben! Come quick!” cried Jan, as she saw the
sailor over the top of the grassy hill. “He’s trying to pull Trouble
into the water!”
“Bless my hat!” cried Uncle Ben, as he saw what was going on. “It’s a
wild swan. I’ve heard folks tell about them coming to the lake, but
this is the first I’ve seen here. Don’t be afraid, Trouble!” he
called. “It’s only a swan bird and it won’t hurt you!”
Quickly Uncle Ben ran down to the edge of the water and caught up
Trouble in his arms. He had to pull the loose bloomers out of the big,
yellow bill of the large white swan that had hold of the cloth. And as
Uncle Ben did this the swan spread out its wings and hissed, just as
geese hiss at you when they think you are going to hurt them.
“Go on away, Mr. or Mrs. Swan, whatever you are!” cried Uncle Ben, as
he held Trouble safely in his arms. “Go on away! Shoo! We won’t hurt
you and we don’t want you to bother us!”
Janet had run back from the shore as soon as she saw that her brother
was safe, and a moment later, putting Trouble down so that Janet and
Lola could look after him, Uncle Ben caught up a branch of a tree and
waved it at the wild swan.
The big, white bird flapped its wings, stretched out its long neck,
gave a hiss or two, and then began to flap its wings. A moment later,
with a sort of “honking” sound, it began to half run, half fly along
the top of the water. And then, suddenly, it seemed to jump up into
the air, and away it flew, its neck stretched out in front like a
yardstick.
“There it goes!” cried Uncle Ben, with a laugh. “Now it won’t bother
you any more, Trouble!”
“What was that big bird that just flew away?” cried Tom and Ted,
hurrying up from the fishing cove.
“It was a wild swan,” said Uncle Ben. “I never saw one by itself
before. Generally they fly in flocks, sometimes eight or ten of them.
They go from lake to lake, often staying a long while on the same one.
But what did this one do, Janet?”
“Oh, Lola and I were just dabbling our hands and arms while we waited
for you to fasten the boats,” answered Ted’s sister, “and Trouble was
throwing little stones into the water, when, all of a sudden, this
big, white bird came flying down out of the sky. He made a terrible
splash in the water.
“Trouble went up to it, and held out his red rubber ball. The swan bit
at it, and then it bit his bloomers and tried to pull Trouble into the
lake.”
“And I ran to get you,” said Lola, “while Jan held on to Trouble.”
“Oh, I guess the swan didn’t really try to pull Trouble into the
lake,” said Uncle Ben. “Perhaps the swan isn’t as wild as I thought.
It may have lived once on a lake near people’s houses. They get quite
tame, and children feed them. The swans will take bits of bread from
your hand.
“Maybe this swan thought Trouble’s red ball was a new kind of bread,
but when he nibbled it with its yellow bill he thought he had been
fooled. Then he may have pulled on Trouble’s bloomers to show that he
was angry, or maybe that was his way of asking for something to eat.”
“Well, he scared me, ’Cause I thought he wanted Trouble!” exclaimed
Jan.
“Bird scared Trouble,” added Trouble.
“And me, too,” said Lola. “I thought he’d fly away with Trouble.”
“No, he couldn’t do that,” explained Uncle Ben. “A swan is quite a
large and heavy bird. They have to run along the top of the water for
a little distance, to get a start so they can fly, just as an airship
has to run along on the ground before it can rise up. But a swan
couldn’t carry off even a little baby, to say nothing of a boy as big
as Trouble.”
“Well, I’m glad it didn’t take him,” said Jan, as she held her small
brother by the hand.
By this time the swan, flying over the lake, was almost out of sight,
and as all the missing rowboats had been gathered together and
fastened to the launch, Uncle Ben said it was best to start back for
Sunnyside.
“Tom and I didn’t catch a fish,” said Ted. “We had some bites and
nibbles, though.”
“We won’t wait here to fish,” decided Uncle Ben. “We can come out in a
boat to-morrow. We’d better get back home now. It looks like a storm.”
And it did storm that night. There was a heavy rain and the wind blew
very strongly. But the bungalow was snug and comfortable, and the
waves from the lake could not reach it.
The Curlytops sat about the table after supper, when the lights were
glowing, and told Daddy Martin about the wild swan that had caught
hold of Trouble’s bloomers with his yellow bill.
For two days it rained, and the children had to stay either in the
bungalow or close to it. No picnics or excursions came to Silver Lake,
and if it had not been that Mr. and Mrs. Martin and Uncle Ben found
many ways of making fun for the children they would have passed a dull
time.
But the sailor knew what to do to make it lively in the house when it
rained outside. He made up little games, as did Daddy Martin, and the
Curlytops and their visitors played them.
Trouble, too, had fun with his red rubber ball, playing that it was a
baby fox and chasing it as it rolled about the floor under the chairs.
Then Mrs. Martin, too, did her share to make sure that the children
had a good time. She let them make candy, and, as you know, that’s
lots of fun. The only thing that happened that was not exactly fun,
was when Trouble sat down in a pan of candy that had been put on a
chair near the back door to cool.
Luckily for Trouble the candy was not hot, and all that happened was
that some of the sticks, which Tom and Ted and Lola and Jan had pulled
out so carefully from the sweet, sticky lump Mrs. Martin gave them,
were spoiled. A pair of bloomers that Trouble wore were all stuck up,
of course, but his mother said she could soak the candy out of them in
the wash.
On the third day the rain stopped, the sun came out, and with joyous
shouts the Curlytops ran from Sunnyside Bungalow and down to the shore
of Silver Lake, followed by Tom and Lola, with Trouble stumbling after
them.
“Now we can go fishing again!” cried Tom.
“And sailing!” added Ted.
“And we can go in the woods!” said Lola.
“And wading!” shouted Jan.
It was very beautiful at Silver Lake after the storm. The rain had
washed all the dust from the leaves of the trees, and when the sun
shone on the leaves they were such a bright green that it was most
pleasant to look at. The showers, too, made more blossoms come out in
the woods, and Jan gathered a fine bouquet for her mother, who liked
blossoms in the bungalow. But Jan took good care not to slip into any
more bog holes as she picked the posies.
One day Uncle Ben had to go up to the far end of the lake, to a small
town named Cardiff, to get some things Mrs. Martin wanted. Uncle Ben
went in the motor boat, and he took Jan and Ted and Tom and Lola with
him. Trouble was left at the bungalow with his mother.
“I wonder if anything will happen to-day?” said Ted, as he sat near
Tom in the motor boat.
“What do you want to happen?” asked Uncle Ben.
“Oh, something queer—like a wild swan or a big fish,” answered Ted.
“Well, maybe something will,” said Uncle Ben. “We haven’t got to
Cardiff yet.”
On chugged the motor boat, and in about an hour it was at the village
where Uncle Ben was to buy the things for Mrs. Martin. The store was
not far from the lake, and the children got out to go in with the
sailor.
“Oh, they keep peanuts here!” exclaimed Ted, as he saw some in a glass
case.
“Yes, they’re nice and freshly roasted,” said the storekeeper.
“Oh!” exclaimed Tom, and then he and the others looked at Uncle Ben.
“Oh!” sighed Tom again.
“Well, I guess a few peanuts wouldn’t hurt the youngsters,” said the
sailor good-naturedly. “Their mother didn’t say not to let them have
any, so you may give them a bag each.”
“Oh, thank you!” said the Curlytops and their friends in chorus, as
the bags of peanuts, still warm from the roaster, were handed to them.
“Where are you folks stopping?” asked the storekeeper, as he finished
doing up the grocery packages for Uncle Ben.
“At Sunnyside Bungalow,” answered Ted.
“Got any dogs at your place?” the man, whose name was Mr. Blake, went
on.
“No, we had a dog, but he went away,” answered Janet.
“Oh, he did!” exclaimed Mr. Blake. “Was your dog a bad dog?”
“Oh, no! He was good!” exclaimed Teddy.
“And his name was Skyrocket!” added Janet.
“Well, if your dog was a good dog I’m not looking for him,” went on
the storekeeper. “I’m looking for a bad dog that has been taking my
chickens and chasing my sheep. He’s taken other folks’ chickens, too!”
“Oh, no!” exclaimed Uncle Ben. “So there are bad dogs around here, are
there? Are you sure, Mr. Blake, that it isn’t a fox? I found a fox den
over in the woods the other day.”
“No, this is a big yellow dog,” answered Mr. Blake. “I saw him
carrying off one of my chickens, and one of my men saw him chasing my
sheep early the other morning. A farmer saw him do the same thing at
his place. I’d like to find out who owns that dog. I’d make them take
him away, or keep him shut up. I don’t like to lose chickens and
sheep. I ask every one who comes into my store if he has a dog. Some
day I’m going to find out who has that bad, yellow one.”
Just then a farmer entered the store, and, as he heard what Mr. Blake
was saying, he exclaimed:
“I think I can tell you where to find that dog you’re talking about.
He’s at a Gypsy camp about five miles from here.”