CHAPTER IX
THE HUGE HOUND'S MOOD
The morning of the third day of rude experience opened somewhat morebrightly for "the wastrels of the waste," as the Young Lady of the partyvery nicely designated them, for it had cleared. There remained,however, the thought that the addition to the snowfall must delay thework of rescue, an apprehension which was soon confirmed. Stafford wasusing the telegraph with no inconvenience now. He had contrived to bringa wire from the main line into the smoking car, and communication fromthere with those on the relief train was an easy matter. The news thatcame was not exhilarating. Very slow headway was being made, so theworkers beyond the drifts reported. The railroad company had not yetinstalled the rotary snow-plows which, later, proved most effective,hurling the snow to a distance and clearing the way thoroughly, whilethe one in use but bored its way through the drifts, only to have a partof the tossed-up mass come whelming back to the track again. There wasa vast amount of shovelling to do, and that took time. The resoluteworkers "at the other end of the trouble," as the trainmen called it,were not discouraged, but they admitted that they were not attending amidsummer picnic. In fact there was no semblance of a picnic about it.They were not so assured now that release would come to the enthralledon the fourth day, at the latest. They but expressed a glitteringconfidence that the fifth day, beyond all doubt, would see the end. Thisassurance by no means satisfied the captive passengers. They felt thatthe White Jailor still held the keys and had them in his inside pocket.
There was much gossip over the emergency line and, despite the somewhatoppressive news, there was infused an element of cheerfulness by thiseasy, sympathetic communication with the outside world. The car in whichthe instrument was placed was a magnet, for, though Stafford was theonly one on the train possessing sufficient experience to accomplishwhat he had done, there were some who understood a little of the scienceof telegraphy and could receive and send messages, after a fashion.Communication between the trains was going on most of the time.
Stafford had completed his work at the instrument and returned to hisown car, where the usual group, with others who had wandered in, wereassembled, amusing themselves as best they could for the after-luncheonhour. He had noted the outline of a woman's head as he entered, andthough her face was not toward him, knew very well to whom the fair headbelonged. A sudden courageous impulse swayed him to its way, an impulsefor which he had reason to be grateful all his life. He advanced andseated himself directly across the aisle from the Far Away Lady, wholooked at him and smiled a quiet welcome. He was not quite himself as hebegan talking to her, but he did well, under the circumstances, and sodid she. It was a meeting as delicious as constrained, for this was thefirst occasion on which they had opportunity to engage in anything likea real conversation. Hesitant, happy but, in a vague way, apprehensive,with a trying past recalled by tones as familiar to each as if fiveyears were but an hour, the two exchanged only commonplaces at first,comment on the curious manner in which they were now held from the restof humanity, or speculation over the immediate prospect. It was allcommonplace, or would have been so, if either been able to veil thestory of the eyes. Eyes are faithful but sometimes faithless servitors,meaning well and doing ill. None can control them absolutely, loversleast of all.
And then their misgivingly sweet communion was ended by what was soinconceivably and suddenly alarming and dangerous that even Staffordwas, for a moment, dazed.
From outside came the sound of a wild yell followed by what was a man'sshout, or rather shriek, of terror, then, commingled with a fierce yelpand growl, a sound of clattering on the car steps a rattling of thedoor, its sudden violent opening, as a man's form veered away from itand plunged into the snow on the other side, and then the appearance ofa Thing which hesitated but a second, then turned and entered the carleapingly, a monstrous brute with fanged jaws agape and glaring eyes anddeath in his fierce intent. Not the Black Dog of the Marshes, not RedWull, the murderer of Scottish sheep, not the Hound of the Baskervillescould have presented an appearance more utterly demoniacal.
There were cries and shouts of alarm and the occupants of the car wereon their feet as the great brute plunged forward. He saw, apparently,but one object. The Far Away Lady had been sitting close to the outsideof her seat and it was her white, startled face which drew the red eyesof the charging monster. Two great leaps he made and the third was ather throat.
But not so swift the leap as that of the man opposite the imperiledwoman. As a panther starts, Stafford shot from his place and was beforeher. With arm upraised, to shield his throat, he met the full impact ofthe tremendous force, staggering before it, but not falling. Then begana struggle brief but terrifying.
The hound's teeth found nothing as they came together, missing thefending left arm as the man thrust it forward, and coming togetherviciously as the brute fell back for an instant and leaped again. Thistime the arm was siezed fiercely as the man's right hand grasped firmlythe dog's throat. There was a momentary wrenching and swaying, the dog'shold on the arm was lost and, at the same instant, almost, the hand ofthe arm released was aiding its fellow in the throat grip, when thefierce wrestle became more even. The dog writhed and twisted madly whilethe man stood, pale but firm, his legs braced against the seats as hesought a mastery of the folding skin and to bring his hands togetheruntil they should find the windpipe and afford a chance of throttlinghis powerful adversary. The feat was not an easy one, for there weregreat size and the strength of savage rage to overcome. Growlinghoarsely, foaming at the mouth, whining hungrily in its blood-thirst,the brute surged forward again and again, and wrenched and swayed in theeffort to free himself from that merciless, seeking hold. So they swungand tottered for a moment, and then, at last, the man found the deadlygrip he had been feeling for; he had the windpipe of the beast!
Now came another aspect to the struggle. The hound, in peril now, nolonger aggressive, for the moment, was fighting for his life. Hisstrength was going. With a mighty effort, Stafford swung him about andbackward against the seat, gasping and gurgling. With the utmoststrength of his hands the man squeezed and bore forward, at the sametime, with all the weight and impulse of his body. The dog twisted infrightful paroxysms, the red tongue protruded and the eyes staredblindly, but there was too much vitality in the animal for a sudden endof all. Still the man surged forward with all his might, bearing soclosely that the hot slaver of the beast was on his cheek and in hishair. The straining lasted for a little time, and then at last came whatwas certain; there was a sudden yielding, a great final gasp, the bigbody relaxed and straightened out and the fight was over. Stafford roseweakly upright, assisted by the men who had vainly sought opportunity toassist him in the sudden fight and turned toward the woman who lay faintand white, against the window ledge, with face upturned and eyesunseeing. They carried her gently to her stateroom.
"THE BIG BODY RELAXED AND STRAIGHTENED OUT"]
There was a rush of the passengers to Stafford's side and there wereshowering thanks and congratulations and all the exclamatory commentwhich would naturally follow a scene so startling and with such atermination, but one man swept the others aside, with suddenly acquiredauthority, and demanded an examination of Stafford's hurt. It was thephysician of the group, and the wisdom of his action was recognized atonce. It was found that the dog's teeth had entered the fore-armdeeply, but the marks were clean and the blood was flowing readily. "Itwould be nothing serious," commented the doctor, "if it were not for thechance of hydrophobia. Do you think the dog was mad?" he asked ofStafford.
And, even as he spoke, something happened, something which, as before,was so unexpected, so alarming, so utterly beyond all ordinary chance,as to rob the men there of the moment's reason. There was a snarl likethat of a tiger at their very feet and the dog's neck upreared amongthem fiercely. He had not been strangled utterly unto death, and hadrevived to breath and life again. His strength seemed to return to himinstantaneously. With a growl which was almost a roar, the beast surgedinto the aisle
, his glaring eyes unseeing at first but, as perceptioncame to them, discerning again but a single object. Their devouringintent was upon a figure just entering the other doorway. The animal'ssighted quarry was the effervescent youth who had first made himselfgenerally known on the train because of his air of optimism. He hadinstant opportunity for an exhibition of all his blithesome qualities.
Straight toward the man the dog plunged furiously, in an uplifting leapwhich was but a hurling of himself squarely at his throat as he hadleaped at that thinner one of the Far Away Lady, but the youth lackednot presence of mind, which was illustrated in so diminutive a fractionof a second as to be practically unrecordable. Far and well he sprangfrom the steps of the car and landed in a drift up to his armpits,falling forward as the dog plunged after him. The beast collided withthe railing of the platform and turned and rolled into the snow as hestruck the earth, or as nearly the earth as he could go. The snow wasabove his head, and well it was for the pursued that it was the case.The man plunged ahead, hampered, it is true, but making swift headway inhis alarm, straight toward a tree on the ascending slope, a stunted pinewhich was providentially but a few yards away, while the brute pursuinghim plunged wildly about yelping and barking, guided only by scent andsound in his fierce chase. The man had the advantage and what had seemeda prospective tragedy one moment became something very like a comedy thenext. It was droll but well was it for the evading man that the snow hehad lately been anathematizing had now become his ally and protector. Hereached the tree not much ahead of the raving dog, who was at its trunkin a moment as soon as the pursued came fairly into sight, andclambering to safety upon a lower limb, not very far up but sufficientlyhigh to assure him immunity from the snapping jaws of the beast leapingupward in a vain attempt to reach the perching chase. The youth woundhis arms about the bole and dangled his legs down tantalizingly,meanwhile announcing exuberantly to the people who had rushed to theplatform that snow was the finest thing in the world, when it was deepenough. All would have been over with in a moment and the youth free tocome down from his eyrie but for a sudden interruption, for half a dozenof the passengers had, by this time, secured revolvers from their gripsand were about to end at once the career of the raging animal. A shot,which missed had already been fired when the voice of Stafford rang outsharply:
"Don't shoot! Don't shoot the brute, yet! I want to know first whetheror not he is a mad dog. Wait a few moments."
His request was obeyed unhesitatingly, all recognizing its good senseand forethought, while the Gallus Youth called out cheerily: "That'sright. I'll amuse him here Mr. Stafford while you diagnose his ailment.It's a good idea. May save a record case of hydrophobia. Try him on, butlook out, or 'dar's gwine ter be not only trubble in de chu'ch butdiscawd in de choir.'"
And while the passengers crowded at the windows and on the platforms,Stafford did "try him on." He sent for bread and meat and, stepping downto the lower step of the car, waited until the dog had become silent fora moment and was gazing intently and watchfully upward at his undestinedprey, and then called out, attracting his attention. There was a generalshrinking back, the majority of the passengers expecting a rush of theanimal toward the car again, but to the surprise of all he did not moveas Stafford spoke to him soothingly, though he turned his head andshowed his teeth. Stafford leaned forward and tossed to the dog's veryfeet the steaming meat and other food which had been brought and nosooner had the scent reached the nostrils of the beast than, ignoringinstantly the man perched in the tree he pounced upon the foodvoraciously, gulping it down as if he had not fed for months. Staffordcalled for more and fed the suffering creature until he would eat nolonger. Then he called the dog to him, good-naturedly and in an ordinarytone, and, astounding as it was to all, the beast responded, approachinghim though somewhat cautiously. Stafford sent for water, and finally thedog lapped it from a pail in quantities which told a story. Dumb animalthough it was upon which they were gazing the onlookers could not butsympathize with its evident past distress and recognize what had beenthe natural consequence. Stafford rose and drew a long breath of relief.Assuredly he had good reason. The chance of hydrophobia was past. "Thedog is not mad," he said. "He was only starving and crazed with thirstand raging blindly at everything and anybody. I don't blame theunreasoning beast. How did it happen?"
The whole thing was soon made clear. The dog, a dappled monster Ulm, orSiberian bloodhound, had been shipped from San Francisco to the East byan owner to whom the hound was as the apple of his eye. It had beenconfined in the forward baggage car the man in charge of which had beenill during the train's imprisonment and had forgotten the beastentirely. The car had not been opened before and the imprisoned animalcrazed by thirst and hunger, had gone practically insane with sufferingand, upon the opening of the door, had leaped out furiously, in pursuitof the first object upon which it could vent its fury. One man's neglecthad resulted in something very close to tragedy.
Now the dog was fawning at Stafford's feet. He patted it on the head andthe beast followed him into the baggage car again where it lay downcontentedly. There was no thought of killing it now. As one man said:"We may be all going mad ourselves before we get out of this." But hecreated no apprehension.
Stafford returned to his car and another examination of his hurt wasmade. The punctures in his arm were treated by the doctor, to avoid allchances, as he said, and the episode of the dog was ended.
The Cassowary; What Chanced in the Cleft Mountains Page 9