Some time after Bushy had helped save the men from the snow-slide she
had an adventure with Rover which was very funny, though Bushy’s heart
was almost broken because it ended in the ruin of her one good dress.
This was a pink calico with white moons dotted all over it, and the
only dress she had, in fact, for everything else she wore was made of
the sacks that the horse-feed and the corn-meal came in. Flour was $100
a sack, so there were very few flour sacks to be used up in clothes for
Bushy. It took all they could get to make the undergarments, so dresses
generally had to be gunny sacks made over.
This pink calico dress one of the miners had brought from the States
when it was his turn to bring the freight, and Bushy only wore it when
some special affair was going on. This day she was left all alone in
the cabin. Nobody was expected until supper-time. Rover was enjoying
the sunshine so much that he could not be induced to enter into a
romp--he seemed to like nothing better than to stretch himself full
length across the front doorstep and make Bushy go around him or step
over him every time she had occasion to go in or out.
“You are a stupid old fellow!” cried Bushy, giving him a soft tap with
her bare foot. Rover only winked at her and wagged his shaggy tail.
“You are no company at all,” she added, but Rover did not mind, and
this time he was too lazy to wink, but closed his eyes and went sound
asleep.
Time hung heavily on her hands; she had written her lesson until both
sides of the slate were full; she had swept the cabin and made a
roaring fire in the fire-place, that kept the pot of deer meat boiling
away like fun. It was an exceptionally warm day for that time of the
year, and her father had told her not to go up the mountains hunting,
because he was afraid of another snow-slide. The water was running down
in streams until quite a little lake was formed in a low spot not far
away.
Bushy watched the water running down on all sides and began to wonder
how deep the lake was. “I wonder what kind of weather it was last
year,” she said to herself--she always talked out loud because she
never had any little boys or girls to play with.
Then she hunted up the almanac where her father jotted down all the
snow-storms, snow-slides, and everything that he particularly wanted to
remember.
“Why, Rover! Rover!” she screamed, running out and shaking him until
he was obliged to pay some attention to her, “it is the 17th of June.
Padre didn’t know it, I guess. We must have a good time, Rover. Wake
up, you sleepy dog!”
Bushy rushed back to the wooden box where she kept her pink dress, and
while she sang a merry tune, slipped the pink calico over her head,
shook down the little ruffles, buttoned the row of pearl buttons in the
back--those buttons to Bushy were more precious than diamonds--then
snatching her hat, that was a great, soft, felt sombrero, she called to
Rover and they ran a race down a well-trodden path to the very edge of
the water.
“Oh, look, Rover, the lake is growing wider and wider; it will soon
reach the divide and then run down the other side in a great river.
Come on, Rover, let’s wade in just a little way.”
Bushy slipped off her moccasins that had been put on in honor of the
day--Bushy always insisted on going barefooted the minute the snow left
the ground--and began to dip her toes cautiously into the water. Rover
whined and acted very disagreeably, dashing in and out and wagging his
wet tail so as to throw the water over her.
“Rover! if you can’t behave yourself you will have to keep out!” she
cried, venturing in a little farther. “Stay out, sir! Don’t you dare
sprinkle me again!”
[Illustration: “OH, LOOK, ROVER, THE LAKE IS GROWING WIDER AND
WIDER.”]
Rover howled and stuck his nose as high in the air as possible.
“Howl away!” answered Bushy, as she tucked her pink dress up high about
her waist and waded still farther. The day was warm and the water did
not feel half so cold as she thought it would. She could see quite to
the bottom as she waded, but when her toes dug vigorously in the mud
great clouds of it would circle in queer forms about her fat legs. To
insure the pink dress from getting damp she threw the skirt from the
back over her head, thus preventing her from seeing Rover.
Howl after howl issued from his throat. He knew that Bushy was doing a
very foolish thing.
“Her father told her this very morning,” said Rover to himself, “that
she should be careful. She will step in a hole in a minute and then
she will be drowned.” He ran first up the bank then down to the very
water’s edge, then back toward the house, looking to see if he could
not call some one to make Bushy mind; then he would squat on his hind
legs and howl and yelp at every step she made.
“Hush up!” cried Bushy, who thought he was crying only because she had
forbidden him coming in. “Hush up! people don’t cry on Bunker Hill Day.
When the parade comes home we will--oh, oh, oh!” she screamed stooping
down to try and pull out something that had stuck into her foot. Her
back was to Rover. He saw her stoop and heard her scream with pain.
That was enough for him. With one bound he landed in the water close
beside her and with another he had clinched his teeth in the back of
her dress and then commenced a backward movement that threw Bushy quite
off her feet and down flat in the black muddy water.
The skirt worked down from her head. Rover pulled and pulled, her
head ploughing a furrow in the mud as he dragged her along. The water
almost choked her. She could not cry out, and did not realize what had
happened to her until she found herself high and safe on the bank, with
Rover dancing as if he were crazy about her.
She was dripping wet; her hair was plastered down over her face by the
mud; her dress, once so pink and beautiful, was black with dirt. As
soon as she could get her breath she threw herself down on the ground
and cried with all her might.
“Oh, Rover, Rover! You have broken my heart. You stupid dog! It isn’t
deep. I was only wading in just for fun, and now you have spoilt my”----
“Great heavens! Bushy, what has happened?” cried Shanks, who had been
sent to the cabin for a chisel. “How did you fall in, and how did you
get out?” he cried, quite out of breath from running.
He wiped the mud from her face, and again asked: “Tell me, Bushy,
did you fall to the bottom?”
[Illustration: “GREAT HEAVENS! BUSHY, WHAT HAS HAPPENED?” CRIED SHANKS.]
“Bottom of what?” inquired Bushy, looking curiously at him through her
tangled hair. “I was only wading.”
“Then you didn’t fall into the prospect hole that has twelve feet of
water in it, just there?” and Shanks pointed about two feet from the
spot where Bushy’s toe had struck against a board, and from which Rover
had dragged her.
“Rover saved me!” she cried, throwing her arms about his wet body.
“Dear old Rover kept me from falling into that dreadful hole. I forgot
it was there; one step more and I would have gone down. Oh, Rover, dear
Rover, I won’t call you stupid ever in my life again; and who cares for
the pink dress now!”
Rover wagged his tail with joy until Bushy stood up; then she presented
such a funny appearance that he began to howl louder than ever. This
made Shanks and Bushy laugh heartily.
Shanks took them to the cabin and gave them both a bath, but Bushy’s
hair had to be shingled; her father could not get the snarls out any
other way. The pink dress was spoiled, but Bushy had it put carefully
away in a box, where she found it years and years afterward, when it
brought back the story of faithful old Rover and how he saved her life.