CHAPTER III.
LLOYD MEETS HERO
It was July when they reached Switzerland. After three weeks of constanttravel, it seemed good to leave boats and railroads for awhile, and stopto rest in the clean old town of Geneva. The windows of the big hoteldining-room looked out on the lake, and the Little Colonel, sitting atbreakfast the morning after their arrival, could scarcely eat for watchingthe scene outside.
Gay little pleasure boats flashed back and forth on the sparkling water.The quay and bridge were thronged with people. From open windows down thestreet came the tinkle of pianos, and out on the pier, where a party oftourists were crowding on to one of the excursion steamers, a band wasplaying its merriest holiday music.
Far away in the distance she could see the shining snow crown of MontBlanc, and it gave her an odd feeling, as if she were living in ageography lesson, to know that she was bounded on one side by the famousAlpine mountain, and on the other by the River Rhone, whose source she hadoften traced on the map. The sunshine, the music, and the gay crowds madeit seem to Lloyd as if the whole world were out for a holiday, and she ateher melon and listened to the plans for the day with the sensation thatsomething very delightful was about to happen.
"We'll go shopping this morning," said Mrs. Sherman. "I want Lloyd to seesome of those wonderful music boxes they make here; the dancing bears, andthe musical hand-mirrors; the chairs that play when you sit down in them,and the beer-mugs that begin a tune when you lift them up."
Lloyd's face dimpled with pleasure, and she began to ask eager questions."Couldn't we take one to Mom Beck, mothah? A lookin'-glass that would play'Kingdom Comin', when she picked it up? It would surprise her so she wouldthink it was bewitched, and she'd shriek the way she does when acattapillah gets on her."
Lloyd laughed so heartily at the recollection, that an old gentlemansitting at an opposite table smiled in sympathy. He had been watching thechild ever since she came into the dining-room, interested in every lookand gesture. He was a dignified old French soldier, tall andbroad-shouldered, with gray hair and a fierce-looking gray moustachedrooping heavily over his mouth. But the eyes under his shaggy brows wereso kind and gentle that the shyest child or the sorriest waif of a straydog would claim him for a friend at first glance.
The Little Colonel was so busy watching the scene from the window that shedid not see him until he had finished his breakfast and rose from thetable. As he came toward them on his way to the door, she whispered,"Look, mothah! He has only one arm, like grandfathah. I wondah if he was asoldiah, too. Why is he bowing to Papa Jack?"
"I met him last night in the office," explained her father, when the oldgentleman had passed out of hearing. "We got into conversation over thedog he had with him--a magnificent St. Bernard, that had been trained as awar dog, to go out with the ambulances to hunt for dead and woundedsoldiers. Major Pierre de Vaux is the old man's name. He served many yearsin the French army, but was retired after the siege of Strasburg. Theclerk told me that it was there that the Major lost his arm, and receivedhis country's medal for some act of bravery. He is well known here inGeneva, where he comes every summer for a few weeks."
"Oh, I hope I'll see the war dog!" cried the Little Colonel. "What do yousuppose his name is?"
The waiter, who was changing their plates, could not resist thistemptation to show off the little English he knew. "Hes name is _Hero_,mademoiselle," he answered. "He vair smart dog. He know _evair_ singsomebody say to him, same as a person."
"You'll probably see him as we go out to the carriage," said Mr. Sherman."He follows the Major constantly."
As soon as breakfast was over, Mrs. Sherman went up to her room for herhat. Lloyd, who had worn hers down to breakfast, wandered out into thehall to wait for her. There was a tall, carved chair standing near theelevator, and Lloyd climbed into it. To her great confusion, somethinginside of it gave a loud click as she seated herself, and began to play.It played so loudly that Lloyd was both startled and embarrassed. Itseemed to her that every one in the hotel must hear the noise, and knowthat she had started it.
"Silly old thing!" she muttered, as with a very red face she slipped downand walked hurriedly away. She intended to go into the reading-room, butin her confusion turned to the left instead of the right, and ran againstsome one coming out of the hotel office. It was the Major.
"Oh, I beg your pahdon!" she cried, blushing still more. From the twinklein his eye she was sure that he had witnessed her mortifying encounterwith the musical chair. But his first words made her forget herembarrassment. He spoke in the best of English, but with a slight accentthat Lloyd thought very odd and charming.
"Ah, it is Mr. Sherman's little daughter. He told me last night that youhad come to Switzerland because it was a land of heroes, and he was surethat you would be especially interested in mine. So come, Hero, my bravefellow, and be presented to the little American lady. Give her your paw,sir!"
He stepped aside to let the great creature past him, and Lloyd uttered anexclamation of delight, he was so unusually large and beautiful. His curlycoat of tawny yellow was as soft as silk, and a great ruff of whitecircled his neck like a collar. His breast was white, too, and his paws,and his eyes had a wistful, human look that went straight to Lloyd'sheart. She shook the offered paw, and then impulsively threw her armsaround his neck, exclaiming, "Oh, you deah old fellow! I can't helplovin' you. You're the beautifulest dog I evah saw!"
He understood the caress, if not the words, for he reached up to touch hercheek with his tongue, and wagged his tail as if he were welcoming along-lost friend. Just then Mrs. Sherman stepped out of the elevator."Good-bye, Hero," said the Little Colonel. "I must go now, but I hope I'llsee you when I come back." Nodding good-bye to the Major, she followed hermother out to the street, where her father stood waiting beside an opencarriage.
Lloyd enjoyed the drive that morning as they spun along beside the river,up and down the strange streets with the queer foreign signs over the shopdoors. Once, as they drove along the quay, they met the Major and the dog,and in response to a courtly bow, the Little Colonel waved her hand andsmiled. The empty sleeve recalled her grandfather, and gave her a friendlyfeeling for the old soldier. She looked back at Hero as long as she couldsee a glimpse of his white and yellow curls.
It was nearly noon when they stopped at a place where Mrs. Sherman wantedto leave an enamelled belt-buckle to be repaired. Lloyd was not interestedin the show-cases, and could not understand the conversation her fatherand mother were having with the shopkeeper about enamelling. So, sayingthat she would go out and sit in the carriage until they were ready tocome, she slipped away.
She liked to watch the stir of the streets. It was interesting to guesswhat the foreign signs meant, and to listen to the strange speech aroundher. Besides, there was a band playing somewhere down the street, andchildren were tugging at their nurses' hands to hurry them along. Somecarried dolls dressed in the quaint costumes of Swiss peasants, and somehad balloons. A man with a bunch of them like a cluster of great redbubbles, had just sold out on the corner.
So she sat in the sunshine, looking around her with eager, interestedeyes. The coachman, high up on his box, seemed as interested as herself;at least, he sat up very straight and stiff. But it was only his back thatLloyd saw. He had been at a fete the night before. There seems to bealways a holiday in Geneva. He had stayed long at the merrymaking and hadtaken many mugs of beer. They made him drowsy and stupid. The Americangentleman and his wife stayed long in the enameller's shop. He couldscarcely keep his eyes open. Presently, although he never moved a muscleof his back and sat up stiff and straight as a poker, he was soundasleep, and the reins in his grasp slipped lower and lower and lower.
The horse was an old one, stiffened and jaded by much hard travel, but ithad been a mettlesome one in its younger days, with the recollection ofmany exciting adventures. Now, although it seemed half asleep, dreaming,maybe, of the many jaunts it had taken with other American tourists, orwondering if it were not time fo
r it to have its noonday nose-bag, it wasreally keeping one eye open, nervously watching some painters on thesidewalk. They were putting up a scaffold against a building, in orderthat they might paint the cornice.
Presently the very thing happened that the old horse had been expecting. Aheavy board fell from the scaffold with a crash, knocking over a ladder,which fell into the street in front of the frightened animal. Now the oldhorse had been in several runaways. Once it had been hurt by a fallingladder, and it had never recovered from its fear of one. As this one felljust under it's nose, all the old fright and pain that caused its firstrunaway seemed to come back to its memory. In a frenzy of terror itreared, plunged forward, then suddenly turned and dashed down the street.
The plunge and sudden turn threw the sleeping coachman from the box tothe street. With the lines dragging at its heels, the frightened horsesped on. The Little Colonel, clutching frantically at the seat in front ofher, screamed at the horse to stop. She had been used to driving eversince she was big enough to grasp the reins, and she felt that if shecould only reach the dragging lines, she could control the horse. But thatwas impossible. All she could do was to cling to the seat as the carriagewhirled dizzily around corners, and wonder how many more frightful turnsit would make before she should be thrown out.
The white houses on either side seemed racing past them. Nurses ran,screaming, to the pavements, dragging the baby-carriages out of the way.Dogs barked and teams were jerked hastily aside. Some one dashed out of ashop and threw his arms up in front of the horse to stop it, but, veeringto one side, it only plunged on the faster.
Lloyd's hat blew off. Her face turned white with a sickening dread, andher breath began to come in frightened sobs. On and on they went, and, asthe scenes of a lifetime will be crowded into a moment in the memory of adrowning man, so a thousand things came flashing into Lloyd's mind. Shesaw the locust avenue all white and sweet in blossom time, and thought,with a strange thrill of self-pity, that she would never ride under itswhite arch again. Then she saw Betty's face on the pillow, as she had lainwith bandaged eyes, telling in her tremulous little voice the story of theRoad of the Loving Heart. Queerly enough, with that came the thought ofHowl and Henny, and she had time to be glad that she had amused them onthe voyage, and made them happy. Then came her mother's face, and PapaJack's. In a few moments, she told herself, they would be picking up herpoor, broken, lifeless little body from the street. How horribly theywould feel. And then--she screamed and shut her eyes. The carriage haddashed into something that tore off a wheel. There was a crash--a sound asof splintering wood. But it did not stop their mad flight. With a horriblebumping motion that nearly threw her from the carriage at every jolt, theystill kept on.
They were on the quay now. The noon sun on the water flashed into her eyeslike the blinding light thrown back from a looking-glass. Then somethingwhite and yellow darted from the crowd on the pavement, and catching thehorse by the bit, swung on heavily. The horse dragged along for a fewpaces, and came to a halt, trembling like a leaf.
A wild hurrah went up from both sides of the street, and the LittleColonel, as she was lifted out white and trembling, saw that it was a hugeSt. Bernard that the crowd was cheering.
"Oh, it's H-Hero!" she cried, with chattering teeth. "How did he gethere?" But no one understood her question. The faces she looked into,while beaming with friendly interest, were all foreign. The eagerexclamations on all sides were uttered in a foreign tongue. There was noone to take her home, and in her fright she could not remember the name oftheir hotel. But in the midst of her confusion a hearty sentence inEnglish sounded in her ear, and a strong arm caught her up in a fatherlyembrace. It was the Major who came pushing through the crowd to reach her.Her grandfather himself could not have been more welcome just at thattime, and her tears came fast when she found herself in his friendlyshelter. The shock had been a terrible one.
"Come, dear child!" he exclaimed, gently, patting her shoulder. "Courage!We are almost at the hotel. See, it is on the corner, there. The fatherand mother will soon be here."
Wiping her eyes, he led her across the street, explaining as he went howit happened that he and the dog were on the street when she passed. Theyhad been in the gardens all morning and were going home to lunch, whenthey heard the clatter of the runaway far down the street. The Major couldnot see who was in the carriage, only that it appeared to be a child. Hewas too old a man, and with his one arm too helpless to attempt to stopit, but he remembered that Hero had once shared the training of somecollies for police service, before it had been decided to use him as anambulance dog. They were taught to spring at the bridles of escapinghorses.
"I was doubtful if Hero remembered those early lessons," said the Major,"but I called out to him sharply, for the love of heaven to stop it if hecould, and that instant he was at the horse's head, hanging on with allhis might. Bravo, old fellow!" he continued, turning to the dog as hespoke. "We are proud of you this day!"
They were in the corridor of the hotel now, and the Little Colonel,kneeling beside Hero and putting her arms around his neck, finished hersobbing with her fair little face laid fondly against his silky coat.
"Oh, you deah, deah old Hero," she said. "You saved me, and I'll love youfo' evah and evah!"
The crowd was still in front of the hotel, and the corridor full ofexcited servants and guests, when Mr. and Mrs. Sherman hurried in. Theyhad taken the first carriage they could hail and driven as fast aspossible in the wake of the runaway. Mrs. Sherman was trembling soviolently that she could scarcely stand, when they reached the hotel. Theclerk who ran out to assure them of the Little Colonel's safety was loudin his praises of the faithful St. Bernard.
Hero had known many masters. Any one in the uniform of the army had oncehad authority over him. He had been taught to obey many voices. Many handshad fed and fondled him, but no hand had ever lain quite so tenderly onhis head, as the Little Colonel's. No one had ever looked into his eyes sogratefully as she, and no voice had ever thrilled him with as loving tonesas hers, as she knelt there beside him, calling him all the fond endearingnames she knew. He understood far better than if he had been human, thatshe loved him. Eagerly licking her hands and wagging his tail, he told heras plainly as a dog can talk that henceforth he would be one of her bestand most faithful of friends.
If petting and praise and devoted attention could spoil a dog, Hero's headwould certainly have been turned that day, for friends and strangers alikemade much of him. A photographer came to take his picture for the leadingdaily paper. Before nightfall his story was repeated in every home inGeneva. No servant in the hotel but took a personal pride in him orwatched his chance to give him a sly sweetmeat or a caress. But being adog instead of a human, the attention only made him the more lovable, forit made him feel that it was a kind world he lived in and everybody washis friend.
It was after lunch that the Little Colonel came up-stairs carrying thediary, now half-filled with the record of their journeying.
"Put it all down in the book, Papa Jack," she demanded. "I'll nevah forgetto my dyin' day, but I want it written down heah in black and white thatHero saved me!"
The Little Colonel's Hero Page 4