public of Caneville got tired of purchasing their own measure of song;
whether a fourth would have been successful there was no chance of
discovering, for Old Powtry looked in vain for Bruin with the proceeds
of the last lot. Day after day passed by and still he was absent, until
it was deemed necessary to have a search after him. For some time he
eluded all inquiries, as he well knew his fate if his hiding-place were
discovered; for having appropriated the money of his master to his own
use, he was fully aware that his person would have to pay the penalty of
his transgression. He skulked about the lowest purlieus of the city,
among curs of the most degraded character, as dirty and negligent in
body as they were debased in mind, until, in hourly fear of being
betrayed, he felt that the worst certainty would be preferable to such a
state of suspense and alarm, so resolved to deliver himself up and brave
the worst. He was again cast into prison: for that he was prepared; but
he was _not_ prepared for the wretched place of confinement to which he
was now condemned. On being first thrust into it, he could not behold
all its horror; but when his eyes got accustomed to the semi-darkness,
he found himself in a dismal cell under ground, half full of water from
the overflowing of the river, and teeming with numerous crawling, slimy
things. A little hole, half choked with earth and stones, let in all the
place possessed of light and air; and as the only air which could ever
visit the place had to pass over a bed of stagnant mud ere it reached
the spot, it possessed but few refreshing properties.
Bruin, who had in his despair given himself quietly up to the
authorities, thinking probably that by the very act he might procure
some mitigation of his sentence, now that he perceived his doom, gave
way to one of those fearful bursts of rage which no experience had
succeeded in teaching him to curb. He howled till the dirt sticking
about the vaulted ceiling, and the earth choking up the air-hole,
dropped piecemeal to the ground, and every insect that had ears covered
them up the best way it could to prevent its becoming instantaneously
deafened by the horrid sound; then tearing round and round and round the
confined space of his cell, till there seemed to him fifty windows
instead of one, and the single door appeared suddenly placed in every
part of the miserable vault,--he struck his head against the rugged wall
of his prison, and toppled over senseless on to the ground.
AT REST.
It is not easy to say how long Bruin remained insensible, but it must
have been some time; for when he recovered himself, there was a feeling
of weakness about him as though he had been fasting long. His head, too,
felt sadly dizzy as he rose from his cold bed and pushed his nose
against the hole of a window to procure a little air. From this he
withdrew to pace his narrow cell; and as the turning round increased his
giddiness, on reaching the opposite wall he retraced his steps
backwards, and so continued for a full hour, gently moving his head
meanwhile to the right and left, as was his wont. Then getting into the
driest corner, he threw himself of a heap on the ground, and
mechanically resuming the old family practice of sucking his paw, tried
to bring his mind to bear upon his situation. But this was a matter of
no little difficulty, for the late events of his life had tended very
considerably to weaken an intellect that was never remarkable for
strength; and so he sat, and relapsed into a dozy state, where
forgetfulness, for the most part, presided. At times, it is true, he
would wake up, and the old fire lighting in his eyes, he would dash his
paw on the ground as he observed the prison-walls close around him; but
the feeling was momentary, and it was evident that the indulgence of his
evil passions had so far clouded his reason, that a few weeks' solitary
confinement would deprive him of all power of reflection for ever.
Evening had come again, though it was dark night in Bruin's cell, and
had been so for hours; when suddenly he heard, or fancied he heard, his
name uttered in a loud whisper. A fear he had never before experienced,
an apprehension of he knew not what, stole over him; and it was not till
the voice, a little louder, exclaimed,--
"Bruin! Bruin, I say!" that he dared venture a reply; when, after an
effort, he said,--
"Who calls?"
"A friend," was the ready answer.
"A friend!" exclaimed Bruin, savagely; "then you can't be seeking _me_,
for I have got no friends."
"Come, come, Bruin," said the voice again, "don't be testy; it's I, the
Captain, and you know I never played you false."
Bruin now, indeed, recognised the voice as that of, perhaps, the most
desperate dog in Caneville. He was a bloodhound of large size and
formidable strength, and such ferocity and daring, that few cared to
come into contact with him, lest by some chance they should be involved
in a quarrel which could only have a disastrous termination. Public
report fixed more than one deep crime upon this canine desperado; but
still, somehow, he escaped the power of the law. Bruin felt flattered at
his attention, and inquired what had brought him there.
"Why," replied the Captain, "this is the third time I have been here
already; but though I have called out your name so loudly that I
expected to alarm the guard, I have got no answer till to-night. I
shouldn't have come back again, for I thought you were dead."
"So I have been nearly, Captain," answered Bruin; "but I am not quite
gone yet, you hear. Now you _have_ found me alive, though, what is it
you want; and how can I, shut up here, be of any interest to you?"
"Listen to me, Bruin," said the Captain, as he squeezed his nose into
the tiny window, and dropped his voice to a low whisper; "if you were
out, and at liberty, would you feel inclined to join me and one or two
others in a job we intend to come off to-night?"
Bruin hastened to reply, but the Captain interrupted him, saying,--
"Don't be in a hurry to make a promise, until you know what it is; for,
shut up here as you are, you can't betray the secret if you would, so I
don't mind revealing it. Four of us mean to break into old Lord
Greyhound's house to-night, where we hear there's money enough to enrich
us for our lives; but as we're likely to have some hard work and stout
resistance, and think we are not strong enough yet for the business, we
should like you to join us, if you choose to do so."
Bruin reflected a moment, where reflection was ruin. Had he at once and
scornfully rejected the horrible temptation, there would still have been
hope for him; but, besides the prospect of liberty, though he did not
yet know how that was to be effected, there was the chance of enriching
himself once again; and, above all, there was a prospect of revenge
against the dog who had once sought his life, because he had been
selected as an object of preference by his daughter. His meditations,
therefore, were at once brought to an end, by his resolution to accept
the proposal; but before he did so, the caution he had acquired by
associating with such beasts as the Captain made him say,--
"Let us understand each other clearly. You said just now, 'if I were out
and at liberty;' have you, then, the power to set me free?"
"Provided you will be of the party, and agree to our terms," answered
the Captain.
"And how if I refuse?" pursued Bruin.
"Why," replied the Captain, quickly and ferociously, "you'll stop there
till you starve."
"I accept your offer," said Bruin, after the slightest possible pause;
"and I would have done so without the alternative, for private reasons
of my own: so let me out, old fellow, as fast as you like."
"And you give your word?" said the Captain.
"The word of a bear," replied Bruin.
The other exclaimed,--
"All right! I shall see you again in half an hour."
Never did half hour seem so long. As minute after minute flew by, there
broke upon Bruin's misty brain a notion that, perhaps, this was only a
trick of the Captain's to get him to declare his willingness to join any
desperate deed in order to ruin him; but then, again, he could discover
no reason for such enmity, and could see no advantage accruing to that
individual by such a course. At the very idea, however, of such
betrayal, his teeth gnashed together, his eyes glared in that darkness
like two live coals, and he involuntarily crossed his huge paws over his
chest as though hugging some imaginary enemy. But he recovered his
self-possession on hearing a grating noise at the other side of the
cell, which gradually became louder, until at last a gust of air, which
revived his spirits, came whistling round the vault, and told that his
path was open. The Captain, too, was in an instant by his side to
confirm it. He passed through an aperture, caused by an open iron door,
preceded by his companion, who had, however, first cautiously reclosed
and fastened up the secret entrance; and as they traversed a damp and
dark tunnel, the Captain explained the mystery, by saying this place had
been known to him some time, though it was unsuspected by the
authorities; and that the exterior entrance was so covered up by
brambles, that no one ignorant of the spot could ever imagine what lay
behind, or would care to explore the threatening passage, if by any
chance they discovered it.
As Bruin was exhausted for want of food, and it still wanted some hours
of the time appointed for their undertaking, they proceeded to one of
the old resorts and regaled most heartily, the sense of liberty after
his confinement raising the bear's spirits to the highest pitch. At
length the time agreed on arrived, and the party, prepared for their
desperate and wicked undertaking, set out.
It has been mentioned in a previous part of this history, that Lord
Greyhound was one of the principal grandees in Caneville, both as
regarded fortune and family, and that he lived in a palace befitting his
condition. A crowd of domestics belonged to his household, but the
Captain was aware that their cribs were remote, and that but little in
the shape of resistance was to be feared from them, should they be
aroused. Still great caution was requisite, for if they did not bite
they could bark, and that would be equally as fatal to their success on
this occasion. The only difficulty to be got over was the vigilance of a
porter who slept below, whose fidelity to his master had been tried on
more than one occasion, although what made such attachment singular in
this instance was the fact that the said porter was one of the feline
tribe,--a cat, in fact, of large dimensions, and peculiarly savage
nature. Bruin, however, took upon himself the task of quieting this
servant and keeping watch below, whilst the others should ransack the
mansion, a place of rendezvous being appointed where they were to meet
in case of alarm.
To avoid suspicion they proceeded alone to the scene of their intended
crime, and, favoured by darkness, they reached it unchallenged. Having
gently tried the fastenings in one or two places, they resolved to make
the attempt at a small door at the back, which seemed the most weakly
guarded. Bruin pushed it first quietly with his huge shoulder, and
finding it gradually yielding, without farther ado he placed his knee
against the lower panel, and, with less noise than might have been
expected, sent the door flying from its fastenings. He was the first to
enter, though the others were close behind; but he had not taken two
steps within the house than he saw, as he thought, two balls of fire on
the floor before him,--it was his last look of worldly things,--for at
the same moment the porter Cat, for it was he, sprang at the huge giant
like a fury, and dug his long and pointed talons into Bruin's eyes. With
a howl so dreadful, so awful in its intense agony and rage, that it
seemed to spring from a supernatural source, the affrighted beast rolled
over and over in his pain, crushing the Cat to death in his struggles;
then feeling, even amidst his suffering, the necessity of safety, he
rose to his feet, and ran on, on, on, he knew not whither, till he felt
himself in the midst of water and heard the rushing which it made. So
instantaneous had been the whole transaction that the truth was never
rightly known. The family--nay, the neighbourhood--aroused by the horrid
noise, rushed to the spot, to find the faithful porter dead, with every
bone shattered; the door was open, but no creature was there to tell the
tale. One alone suspected it--one to whom that cry of agony was the
death-blow; for, two days after the event, the Hon. Miss Greyhound
slept with her fathers, the victim of a misplaced and unworthy
attachment.
And Bruin, where was he? Alas! poor beast! Three days after this event
he was discovered by the authorities, half dead with pain, and led back
to prison, which he had left with so little ceremony. His senses,
however, were so bewildered by his situation, that he could neither
explain how he had escaped from his dungeon, nor the cause of his
present deplorable condition; perhaps, too, he deemed it more prudent
to be silent on both these matters. His judges, nevertheless, taking
into consideration his now helpless state, and rightly thinking his
powers of mischief were much abated by the loss of his eyes, pardoned
his previous offence, and thrust him alone and helpless on the world.
For many a long year did the ill-fated animal drag on his wearisome
existence, living on the charity--the scanty charity--of Caneville.
Deprived of sight, no longer able to acquire a livelihood by his labour,
weary, and full of remorse, he daily took his round through the public
streets, soliciting a penny for the "poor blind." A dog, induced for a
weekly trifle and the prospect of an extra bone or two thrown to him,
sometimes by the compassionate as they went their melancholy way, led
him in his wanderings. At first, however, either from ignorance or
carelessness, or a currish malice, he would often guide his helpless
master into positions of difficulty and danger, from which he could
scarce have extricated himself but for the assistance of some benevolent
passers-by; though his situation in such cases--be it said to the shame
of the inferior population of Caneville--too often excited derision and
laughter, instead of aid and consolation. Once, indeed, he was seriously
hurt by the wilful inattention of his guide; for, tottering along as
usual, one fine morning with his staff in one hand, the string attached
to the dog's collar in the other, and his head with the sightless
eyes raised sadly in the air, whilst he uttered his plaintive cry of
"Have pity on the poor blind!" the last word was suddenly converted from
a doleful whine to a howl of pain as his body came in contact with a
post which stood right across his path. Time, which cures all things,
brought at last an effectual remedy to his sufferings, and that remedy
was Death! Ere that great foe or friend relieved poor Bruin, he had
learnt to be repentant of his former life, and was often known to
reprove in others any tendency to those faults of temper or disposition
which had been his own ruin. If he could have recovered the use of his
eyes and have mingled once more with the business of life, it is a
question whether he would have acted up to the precepts which he now
inculcated; but as the experiment was never tried, nor could be, it is
but charitable to think the best.
[Illustration: THE LAST LEAD.]
Months after he had departed this sinful world, a sturdy traveller, with
a particularly wide mouth and short address, entered the city of
Caneville. He stated that he was a native of the place, and had been
wandering far away in other lands. He made various inquiries concerning
former inhabitants of the town, and among others asked for Bruin. His
life, much as I have recounted it, was told to him, and long did the
stranger ruminate over the details. Many portions of it were, indeed,
known to him, for the traveller was no other than our old acquaintance
Tom; but all was interesting. When he had heard it to the end, he
uttered these only words, which might, indeed, serve for moral and poor
Bruin's epitaph:--
"Ah! he was a Great Bear!"
[Illustration]
London:--Printed by G. BARCLAY, Castle St. Leicester Sq.
End of Project Gutenberg's The Adventures of a Bear, by Alfred Elwes