II. _He Moves in Society_
It was one of those things which are really nobody's fault. It was notthe chauffeur's fault, and it was not mine. I was having a friendlyturn-up with a pal of mine on the side-walk; he ran across the road; Iran after him; and the car came round the corner and hit me. It musthave been going pretty slow, or I should have been killed. As it was, Ijust had the breath knocked out of me. You know how you feel when thebutcher catches you just as you are edging out of the shop with a bitof meat. It was like that.
I wasn't taking much interest in things for awhile, but when I did Ifound that I was the centre of a group of three--the chauffeur, a smallboy, and the small boy's nurse.
The small boy was very well-dressed, and looked delicate. He wascrying.
'Poor doggie,' he said, 'poor doggie.'
'It wasn't my fault, Master Peter,' said the chauffeur respectfully.'He run out into the road before I seen him.'
'That's right,' I put in, for I didn't want to get the man intotrouble.
'Oh, he's not dead,' said the small boy. 'He barked.'
'He growled,' said the nurse. 'Come away, Master Peter. He might biteyou.'
Women are trying sometimes. It is almost as if they deliberatelymisunderstood.
'I won't come away. I'm going to take him home with me and send for thedoctor to come and see him. He's going to be my dog.'
This sounded all right. Goodness knows I am no snob, and can rough itwhen required, but I do like comfort when it comes my way, and itseemed to me that this was where I got it. And I liked the boy. He wasthe right sort.
The nurse, a very unpleasant woman, had to make objections.
'Master Peter! You can't take him home, a great, rough, fierce, commondog! What would your mother say?'
'I'm going to take him home,' repeated the child, with a determinationwhich I heartily admired, 'and he's going to be my dog. I shall callhim Fido.'
There's always a catch in these good things. Fido is a name Iparticularly detest. All dogs do. There was a dog called that that Iknew once, and he used to get awfully sick when we shouted it out afterhim in the street. No doubt there have been respectable dogs calledFido, but to my mind it is a name like Aubrey or Clarence. You may beable to live it down, but you start handicapped. However, one must takethe rough with the smooth, and I was prepared to yield the point.
'If you wait, Master Peter, your father will buy you a beautiful,lovely dog....'
'I don't want a beautiful, lovely dog. I want this dog.'
The slur did not wound me. I have no illusions about my looks. Mine isan honest, but not a beautiful, face.
'It's no use talking,' said the chauffeur, grinning. 'He means to havehim. Shove him in, and let's be getting back, or they'll be thinkingHis Nibs has been kidnapped.'
So I was carried to the car. I could have walked, but I had an ideathat I had better not. I had made my hit as a crippled dog, and acrippled dog I intended to remain till things got more settled down.
The chauffeur started the car off again. What with the shock I had hadand the luxury of riding in a motor-car, I was a little distrait, and Icould not say how far we went. But it must have been miles and miles,for it seemed a long time afterwards that we stopped at the biggesthouse I have ever seen. There were smooth lawns and flower-beds, andmen in overalls, and fountains and trees, and, away to the right,kennels with about a million dogs in them, all pushing their nosesthrough the bars and shouting. They all wanted to know who I was andwhat prizes I had won, and then I realized that I was moving in highsociety.
I let the small boy pick me up and carry me into the house, though itwas all he could do, poor kid, for I was some weight. He staggered upthe steps and along a great hall, and then let me flop on the carpet ofthe most beautiful room you ever saw. The carpet was a yard thick.
There was a woman sitting in a chair, and as soon as she saw me shegave a shriek.
'I told Master Peter you would not be pleased, m'lady,' said the nurse,who seemed to have taken a positive dislike to me, 'but he would bringthe nasty brute home.'
'He's not a nasty brute, mother. He's my dog, and his name's Fido. Johnran over him in the car, and I brought him home to live with us. I lovehim.'
This seemed to make an impression. Peter's mother looked as if she wereweakening.
'But, Peter, dear, I don't know what your father will say. He's soparticular about dogs. All his dogs are prize-winners, pedigree dogs.This is such a mongrel.'
'A nasty, rough, ugly, common dog, m'lady,' said the nurse, stickingher oar in in an absolutely uncalled-for way.
Just then a man came into the room.
'What on earth?' he said, catching sight of me.
'It's a dog Peter has brought home. He says he wants to keep him.'
'I'm going to keep him,' corrected Peter firmly.
I do like a child that knows his own mind. I was getting fonder ofPeter every minute. I reached up and licked his hand.
'See! He knows he's my dog, don't you, Fido? He licked me.'
'But, Peter, he looks so fierce.' This, unfortunately, is true. I dolook fierce. It is rather a misfortune for a perfectly peaceful dog.'I'm sure it's not safe your having him.'
'He's my dog, and his name's Fido. I am going to tell cook to give hima bone.'
His mother looked at his father, who gave rather a nasty laugh.
'My dear Helen,' he said, 'ever since Peter was born, ten years ago, hehas not asked for a single thing, to the best of my recollection, whichhe has not got. Let us be consistent. I don't approve of thiscaricature of a dog, but if Peter wants him, I suppose he must havehim.'
'Very well. But the first sign of viciousness he shows, he shall beshot. He makes me nervous.'
So they left it at that, and I went off with Peter to get my bone.
After lunch, he took me to the kennels to introduce me to the otherdogs. I had to go, but I knew it would not be pleasant, and it wasn't.Any dog will tell you what these prize-ribbon dogs are like. Theirheads are so swelled they have to go into their kennels backwards.
It was just as I had expected. There were mastiffs, terriers, poodles,spaniels, bulldogs, sheepdogs, and every other kind of dog you canimagine, all prize-winners at a hundred shows, and every single dog inthe place just shoved his head back and laughed himself sick. I neverfelt so small in my life, and I was glad when it was over and Petertook me off to the stables.
I was just feeling that I never wanted to see another dog in my life,when a terrier ran out, shouting. As soon as he saw me, he came upinquiringly, walking very stiff-legged, as terriers do when they see astranger.
'Well,' I said, 'and what particular sort of a prize-winner are you?Tell me all about the ribbons they gave you at the Crystal Palace, andlet's get it over.'
He laughed in a way that did me good.
'Guess again!' he said. 'Did you take me for one of the nuts in thekennels? My name's Jack, and I belong to one of the grooms.'
'What!' I cried. 'You aren't Champion Bowlegs Royal or anything of thatsort! I'm glad to meet you.'
So we rubbed noses as friendly as you please. It was a treat meetingone of one's own sort. I had had enough of those high-toned dogs wholook at you as if you were something the garbage-man had forgotten totake away.
'So you've been talking to the swells, have you?' said Jack.
'He would take me,' I said, pointing to Peter.
'Oh, you're his latest, are you? Then you're all right--while itlasts.'
'How do you mean, while it lasts?'
'Well, I'll tell you what happened to me. Young Peter took a greatfancy to me once. Couldn't do enough for me for a while. Then he gottired of me, and out I went. You see, the trouble is that while he's aperfectly good kid, he has always had everything he wanted since he wasborn, and he gets tired of things pretty easy. It was a toy railwaythat finished me. Directly he got that, I might not have been on theearth. It was lucky for me that Dick, my present old man, happened towant a dog to keep down the rats, or go
odness knows what might not havehappened to me. They aren't keen on dogs here unless they've pulleddown enough blue ribbons to sink a ship, and mongrels like you andme--no offence--don't last long. I expect you noticed that thegrown-ups didn't exactly cheer when you arrived?'
'They weren't chummy.'
'Well take it from me, your only chance is to make them chummy. If youdo something to please them, they might let you stay on, even thoughPeter was tired of you.'
'What sort of thing?'
'That's for you to think out. I couldn't find one. I might tell you tosave Peter from drowning. You don't need a pedigree to do that. But youcan't drag the kid to the lake and push him in. That's the trouble. Adog gets so few opportunities. But, take it from me, if you don't dosomething within two weeks to make yourself solid with the adults, youcan make your will. In two weeks Peter will have forgotten all aboutyou. It's not his fault. It's the way he has been brought up. Hisfather has all the money on earth, and Peter's the only child. Youcan't blame him. All I say is, look out for yourself. Well, I'm glad tohave met you. Drop in again when you can. I can give you some goodratting, and I have a bone or two put away. So long.'
* * * * *
It worried me badly what Jack had said. I couldn't get it out of mymind. If it hadn't been for that, I should have had a great time, forPeter certainly made a lot of fuss of me. He treated me as if I werethe only friend he had.
And, in a way, I was. When you are the only son of a man who has allthe money in the world, it seems that you aren't allowed to be like anordinary kid. They coop you up, as if you were something precious thatwould be contaminated by contact with other children. In all the timethat I was at the house I never met another child. Peter had everythingin the world, except someone of his own age to go round with; and thatmade him different from any of the kids I had known.
He liked talking to me. I was the only person round who reallyunderstood him. He would talk by the hour and I would listen with mytongue hanging out and nod now and then.
It was worth listening to, what he used to tell me. He told me the mostsurprising things. I didn't know, for instance, that there were any RedIndians in England but he said there was a chief named Big Cloud wholived in the rhododendron bushes by the lake. I never found him, thoughI went carefully through them one day. He also said that there werepirates on the island in the lake. I never saw them either.
What he liked telling me about best was the city of gold and preciousstones which you came to if you walked far enough through the woods atthe back of the stables. He was always meaning to go off there someday, and, from the way he described it, I didn't blame him. It wascertainly a pretty good city. It was just right for dogs, too, he said,having bones and liver and sweet cakes there and everything else a dogcould want. It used to make my mouth water to listen to him.
We were never apart. I was with him all day, and I slept on the mat inhis room at night. But all the time I couldn't get out of my mind whatJack had said. I nearly did once, for it seemed to me that I was sonecessary to Peter that nothing could separate us; but just as I wasfeeling safe his father gave him a toy aeroplane, which flew when youwound it up. The day he got it, I might not have been on the earth. Itrailed along, but he hadn't a word to say to me.
Well, something went wrong with the aeroplane the second day, and itwouldn't fly, and then I was in solid again; but I had done some hardthinking and I knew just where I stood. I was the newest toy, that'swhat I was, and something newer might come along at any moment, andthen it would be the finish for me. The only thing for me was to dosomething to impress the adults, just as Jack had said.
Goodness knows I tried. But everything I did turned out wrong. Thereseemed to be a fate about it. One morning, for example, I was trottinground the house early, and I met a fellow I could have sworn was aburglar. He wasn't one of the family, and he wasn't one of theservants, and he was hanging round the house in a most suspicious way.I chased him up a tree, and it wasn't till the family came down tobreakfast, two hours later, that I found that he was a guest who hadarrived overnight, and had come out early to enjoy the freshness of themorning and the sun shining on the lake, he being that sort of man.That didn't help me much.
Next, I got in wrong with the boss, Peter's father. I don't know why. Imet him out in the park with another man, both carrying bundles ofsticks and looking very serious and earnest. Just as I reached him, theboss lifted one of the sticks and hit a small white ball with it. Hehad never seemed to want to play with me before, and I took it as agreat compliment. I raced after the ball, which he had hit quite a longway, picked it up in my mouth, and brought it back to him. I laid it athis feet, and smiled up at him.
'Hit it again,' I said.
He wasn't pleased at all. He said all sorts of things and tried to kickme, and that night, when he thought I was not listening, I heard himtelling his wife that I was a pest and would have to be got rid of.That made me think.
And then I put the lid on it. With the best intentions in the world Igot myself into such a mess that I thought the end had come.
It happened one afternoon in the drawing-room. There were visitors thatday--women; and women seem fatal to me. I was in the background, tryingnot to be seen, for, though I had been brought in by Peter, the familynever liked my coming into the drawing-room. I was hoping for a pieceof cake and not paying much attention to the conversation, which wasall about somebody called Toto, whom I had not met. Peter's mother saidToto was a sweet little darling, he was; and one of the visitors saidToto had not been at all himself that day and she was quite worried.And a good lot more about how all that Toto would ever take for dinnerwas a little white meat of chicken, chopped up fine. It was not veryinteresting, and I had allowed my attention to wander.
And just then, peeping round the corner of my chair to see if therewere any signs of cake, what should I see but a great beastly brute ofa rat. It was standing right beside the visitor, drinking milk out of asaucer, if you please!
I may have my faults, but procrastination in the presence of rats isnot one of them. I didn't hesitate for a second. Here was my chance. Ifthere is one thing women hate, it is a rat. Mother always used to say,'If you want to succeed in life, please the women. They are the realbosses. The men don't count.' By eliminating this rodent I should earnthe gratitude and esteem of Peter's mother, and, if I did that, it didnot matter what Peter's father thought of me.
I sprang.
The rat hadn't a chance to get away. I was right on to him. I got holdof his neck, gave him a couple of shakes, and chucked him across theroom. Then I ran across to finish him off.
Just as I reached him, he sat up and barked at me. I was never so takenaback in my life. I pulled up short and stared at him.
'I'm sure I beg your pardon, sir,' I said apologetically. 'I thoughtyou were a rat.'
And then everything broke loose. Somebody got me by the collar,somebody else hit me on the head with a parasol, and somebody elsekicked me in the ribs. Everybody talked and shouted at the same time.
'Poor darling Toto!' cried the visitor, snatching up the little animal.'Did the great savage brute try to murder you!'
'So absolutely unprovoked!'
'He just flew at the poor little thing!'
It was no good my trying to explain. Any dog in my place would havemade the same mistake. The creature was a toy-dog of one of thoseextraordinary breeds--a prize-winner and champion, and so on, ofcourse, and worth his weight in gold. I would have done better to bitethe visitor than Toto. That much I gathered from the general run of theconversation, and then, having discovered that the door was shut, Iedged under the sofa. I was embarrassed.
'That settles it!' said Peter's mother. 'The dog is not safe. He mustbe shot.'
Peter gave a yell at this, but for once he didn't swing the voting aninch.
'Be quiet, Peter,' said his mother. 'It is not safe for you to havesuch a dog. He may be mad.'
Women are very unreasonable.
Toto, of course, wouldn't say a word to explain how the mistake arose.He was sitting on the visitor's lap, shrieking about what he would havedone to me if they hadn't separated us.
Somebody felt cautiously under the sofa. I recognized the shoes ofWeeks, the butler. I suppose they had rung for him to come and take me,and I could see that he wasn't half liking it. I was sorry for Weeks,who was a friend of mine, so I licked his hand, and that seemed tocheer him up a whole lot.
'I have him now, madam,' I heard him say.
'Take him to the stables and tie him up, Weeks, and tell one of the mento bring his gun and shoot him. He is not safe.'
A few minutes later I was in an empty stall, tied up to the manger.
It was all over. It had been pleasant while it lasted, but I hadreached the end of my tether now. I don't think I was frightened, but asense of pathos stole over me. I had meant so well. It seemed as ifgood intentions went for nothing in this world. I had tried so hard toplease everybody, and this was the result--tied up in a dark stable,waiting for the end.
The shadows lengthened in the stable-yard, and still nobody came. Ibegan to wonder if they had forgotten me, and presently, in spite ofmyself, a faint hope began to spring up inside me that this might meanthat I was not to be shot after all. Perhaps Toto at the eleventh hourhad explained everything.
And then footsteps sounded outside, and the hope died away. I shut myeyes.
Somebody put his arms round my neck, and my nose touched a warm cheek.I opened my eyes. It was not the man with the gun come to shoot me. Itwas Peter. He was breathing very hard, and he had been crying.
'Quiet!' he whispered.
He began to untie the rope.
'You must keep quite quiet, or they will hear us, and then we shall bestopped. I'm going to take you into the woods, and we'll walk and walkuntil we come to the city I told you about that's all gold anddiamonds, and we'll live there for the rest of our lives, and no onewill be able to hurt us. But you must keep very quiet.'
He went to the stable-gate and looked out. Then he gave a littlewhistle to me to come after him. And we started out to find the city.
The woods were a long way away, down a hill of long grass and across astream; and we went very carefully, keeping in the shadows and runningacross the open spaces. And every now and then we would stop and lookback, but there was nobody to be seen. The sun was setting, andeverything was very cool and quiet.
Presently we came to the stream and crossed it by a little woodenbridge, and then we were in the woods, where nobody could see us.
I had never been in the woods before, and everything was very new andexciting to me. There were squirrels and rabbits and birds, more than Ihad ever seen in my life, and little things that buzzed and flew andtickled my ears. I wanted to rush about and look at everything, butPeter called to me, and I came to heel. He knew where we were going,and I didn't, so I let him lead.
We went very slowly. The wood got thicker and thicker the farther wegot into it. There were bushes that were difficult to push through, andlong branches, covered with thorns, that reached out at you and tore atyou when you tried to get away. And soon it was quite dark, so darkthat I could see nothing, not even Peter, though he was so close. Wewent slower and slower, and the darkness was full of queer noises. Fromtime to time Peter would stop, and I would run to him and put my nosein his hand. At first he patted me, but after a while he did not pat meany more, but just gave me his hand to lick, as if it was too much forhim to lift it. I think he was getting very tired. He was quite a smallboy and not strong, and we had walked a long way.
It seemed to be getting darker and darker. I could hear the sound ofPeter's footsteps, and they seemed to drag as he forced his way throughthe bushes. And then, quite suddenly, he sat down without any warning,and when I ran up I heard him crying.
I suppose there are lots of dogs who would have known exactly the rightthing to do, but I could not think of anything except to put my noseagainst his cheek and whine. He put his arm round my neck, and for along time we stayed like that, saying nothing. It seemed to comforthim, for after a time he stopped crying.
I did not bother him by asking about the wonderful city where we weregoing, for he was so tired. But I could not help wondering if we werenear it. There was not a sign of any city, nothing but darkness and oddnoises and the wind singing in the trees. Curious little animals, suchas I had never smelt before, came creeping out of the bushes to look atus. I would have chased them, but Peter's arm was round my neck and Icould not leave him. But when something that smelt like a rabbit cameso near that I could have reached out a paw and touched it, I turned myhead and snapped; and then they all scurried back into the bushes andthere were no more noises.
There was a long silence. Then Peter gave a great gulp.
'I'm not frightened,' he said. 'I'm not!'
I shoved my head closer against his chest. There was another silencefor a long time.
'I'm going to pretend we have been captured by brigands,' said Peter atlast. 'Are you listening? There were three of them, great big men withbeards, and they crept up behind me and snatched me up and took me outhere to their lair. This is their lair. One was called Dick, theothers' names were Ted and Alfred. They took hold of me and brought meall the way through the wood till we got here, and then they went off,meaning to come back soon. And while they were away, you missed me andtracked me through the woods till you found me here. And then thebrigands came back, and they didn't know you were here, and you keptquite quiet till Dick was quite near, and then you jumped out and bithim and he ran away. And then you bit Ted and you bit Alfred, and theyran away too. And so we were left all alone, and I was quite safebecause you were here to look after me. And then--And then--'
His voice died away, and the arm that was round my neck went limp, andI could hear by his breathing that he was asleep. His head was restingon my back, but I didn't move. I wriggled a little closer to make himas comfortable as I could, and then I went to sleep myself.
I didn't sleep very well. I had funny dreams all the time, thinkingthese little animals were creeping up close enough out of the bushesfor me to get a snap at them without disturbing Peter.
If I woke once, I woke a dozen times, but there was never anythingthere. The wind sang in the trees and the bushes rustled, and far awayin the distance the frogs were calling.
And then I woke once more with the feeling that this time somethingreally was coming through the bushes. I lifted my head as far as Icould, and listened. For a little while nothing happened, and then,straight in front of me, I saw lights. And there was a sound oftrampling in the undergrowth.
It was no time to think about not waking Peter. This was somethingdefinite, something that had to be attended to quick. I was up with ajump, yelling. Peter rolled off my back and woke up, and he sat therelistening, while I stood with my front paws on him and shouted at themen. I was bristling all over. I didn't know who they were or what theywanted, but the way I looked at it was that anything could happen inthose woods at that time of night, and, if anybody was coming along tostart something, he had got to reckon with me.
Somebody called, 'Peter! Are you there, Peter?'
There was a crashing in the bushes, the lights came nearer and nearer,and then somebody said 'Here he is!' and there was a lot of shouting. Istood where I was, ready to spring if necessary, for I was taking nochances.
'Who are you?' I shouted. 'What do you want?' A light flashed in myeyes.
'Why, it's that dog!'
Somebody came into the light, and I saw it was the boss. He was lookingvery anxious and scared, and he scooped Peter up off the ground andhugged him tight.
Peter was only half awake. He looked up at the boss drowsily, and beganto talk about brigands, and Dick and Ted and Alfred, the same as he hadsaid to me. There wasn't a sound till he had finished. Then the bossspoke.
'Kidnappers! I thought as much. And the dog drove them away!'
For the first time in our acquaintance he actually
patted me.
'Good old man!' he said.
'He's my dog,' said Peter sleepily, 'and he isn't to be shot.'
'He certainly isn't, my boy,' said the boss. 'From now on he's thehonoured guest. He shall wear a gold collar and order what he wants fordinner. And now let's be getting home. It's time you were in bed.'
* * * * *
Mother used to say, 'If you're a good dog, you will be happy. If you'renot, you won't,' but it seems to me that in this world it is all amatter of luck. When I did everything I could to please people, theywanted to shoot me; and when I did nothing except run away, theybrought me back and treated me better than the most valuableprize-winner in the kennels. It was puzzling at first, but one day Iheard the boss talking to a friend who had come down from the city.
The friend looked at me and said, 'What an ugly mongrel! Why on earthdo you have him about? I thought you were so particular about yourdogs?'
And the boss replied, 'He may be a mongrel, but he can have anything hewants in this house. Didn't you hear how he saved Peter from beingkidnapped?'
And out it all came about the brigands.
'The kid called them brigands,' said the boss. 'I suppose that's how itwould strike a child of that age. But he kept mentioning the name Dick,and that put the police on the scent. It seems there's a kidnapper wellknown to the police all over the country as Dick the Snatcher. It wasalmost certainly that scoundrel and his gang. How they spirited thechild away, goodness knows, but they managed it, and the dog trackedthem and scared them off. We found him and Peter together in the woods.It was a narrow escape, and we have to thank this animal here for it.'
What could I say? It was no more use trying to put them right than ithad been when I mistook Toto for a rat. Peter had gone to sleep thatnight pretending about the brigands to pass the time, and when he awokehe still believed in them. He was that sort of child. There was nothingthat I could do about it.
Round the corner, as the boss was speaking, I saw the kennel-man comingwith a plate in his hand. It smelt fine, and he was headed straight forme.
He put the plate down before me. It was liver, which I love.
'Yes,' went on the boss, 'if it hadn't been for him, Peter would havebeen kidnapped and scared half to death, and I should be poorer, Isuppose, by whatever the scoundrels had chosen to hold me up for.'
I am an honest dog, and hate to obtain credit under false pretences,but--liver is liver. I let it go at that.
The Man with Two Left Feet, and Other Stories Page 5