CHAPTER XXVIII

THE HAPPIEST TIME OF MY LIFE

The milkman laid me back on Mrs. Gorman’s bed, and in a very short time, the best physician in the neighbourhood was bending over me.

He didn’t think it beneath his dignity to be of service to a dog. He put some cool dressing on my wounded paws, bound them up, and told Mrs. Gorman not to disturb them. Then he went away, and said he would call later in the day.

By that time, my dear master had arrived, and was sitting beside me.

Shall I ever forget that meeting! Master broke down. “My poor Boy--my poor Boy,” he said, and he took my head between his hands.

I was almost delirious with joy. I couldn’t stand up, so I just rolled over and over on the bed, and kicked in ecstasy.

“Lie still, lie still, Boy,” he said with tears in his eyes, and he gently pushed me back to my proper position. “My poor little lad--a regular sapper, engineer dog--dug yourself out of prison. Well, there’s one thing sure. You’ll never be in one again. I’ve bought a pair of police dogs, and they patrol the place day and night. You are a brave little doggie, but you have a good heart, and you don’t always know evil characters.”

As he spoke about German dogs, Oscar came pushing his muzzle toward him.

“You grand young animal,” said master, fondling him. “I can not be grateful enough to you. Granny Gorman,” and master called over his shoulder to the dear old woman who as of old was making him a cup of tea, “you must do something for your dog when you get your reward.”

Granny came toward the bed with her brown tea-pot in her hand. “What reward, sir?”

“The reward for finding my Boy. The cheque is all ready whenever you are.”

She made big round eyes at him, inside her widow’s cap. “Why, sir, the police caught those men.”

“You and your dog found my dog,” said master decidedly. “The money is yours.”

She dropped the tea-pot in her amazement. “Not two thousand dollars.”

“Yes, two thousand dollars,” he said.

She stood deliberating a long time. Her eyes went to the picture of her deceased husband on the wall, to the framed wreath taken from his coffin, to the photograph of her two boys standing clasping each other in an almost death grip. Then she said very slowly, “You’re a rich man, and I s’pose it don’t seem anything to you, but to me it’s a fortune.”

“I wish it were ten thousand,” he said heartily. “However, one can’t measure gratitude by money. I’m your friend for life.”

“Sir, that’s better than the money,” she said with a smile running all over her wrinkled old face. “If you’ll bring that lovely dog of yours to see me sometimes, it’ll be better than bags of gold to me.”

Master didn’t say any more, and she didn’t. They understood each other. He made her sit down, while he picked up the pieces of broken tea-pot from the rag mat, then he came back to me.

“You little rascal,” he said lovingly, “I believe I’ll be a beggar soon, if you keep on. Exhibiting you in that show has dragged me into endless litigation. The pictures and descriptions of you in the newspapers have brought former owners buzzing about my ears like angry bees. I’ve had to buy you over and over again, and your kidnapping cost me a heap more.”

I licked his strong hands. My dear master--he would sell his house, before he would part with me. Then I looked anxiously in his face. He knew what I wanted, and he began to tell me about home affairs. “Young George has mourned you like a brother,” he said smilingly. “He has gone about the house wailing, ‘I want my Borsie--I want my Borsie,’ and when night came, and you did not appear for your frolic in the nursery, he has often cried with disappointment.”

“And mistress,” I wondered as I gazed at him.

“She has been perfectly upset about you,” he said, “and Amarilla. The little dog is pining away, and looks like a skeleton. We did not know that she was so fond of you. The veterinary says that if you do not return soon, she will die. As soon as I had the telephone message from police headquarters here, I shouted the news of your recovery through the house, and Amarilla acted like a wild creature. Afterward, for she has little strength, she fell down exhausted.”

I was terribly excited at this news. I tried to stagger to my feet. I whined, and begged him to take me home.

“I don’t believe it would hurt you,” he said good-humouredly, “though I forgot to ask your physician.” He laughed at me as he said this, and went to the telephone.

“It hasn’t been mended, sir, since those young rascals cut it,” said Granny.

“Then I’ll run over and see him in my car,” said master, and he went to the door.

Pretty soon he came back. “It’s all right, Boy. Come along, we’ll go home.”

Granny Gorman carried out pillows and coverlets, and put a hot water bottle beside me, for the afternoon was cold. Wasn’t I a happy dog!--Master whistled like a boy, as we sped on our way home.

I lay as snug as possible on the floor of the racing-car, but it seemed a long time before we got on the Pleasant River Road, although we were going like the wind.

However, we came at last within sight of the lights of the avenue. I heard master say, “Hello! Baron Ledgar, jump right in. We’re open to inspection,” and he stopped suddenly.

A powerful German police dog stepped in cautiously beside me, and nosed my bundle of wraps.

“So,” he said in a deep foreign voice, “you are the dogling there has been such a stir about. If you want to get stolen again, it won’t be at night. I’m on guard then.”

“_Danke_,” I murmured, “you are a good fellow; I can tell by the sound of your voice.”

“No compliments,” he said gruffly, “just work, work--Boo, hoo! boo hoo!” and he howled like a siren.

Master burst out laughing, and stopped to let him out. “I never saw such zeal,” he exclaimed. “You want to be on guard all the time. A short drive would not take up too much time.”

Baron Ledgar, with an exceedingly intense manner, leaped out before the machine stood still, and went on with his work of examining every inch of ground about the estate.

“He’s a treasure,” said master enthusiastically; “doesn’t hurt any one but keeps every stranger under surveillance. You other dogs can sleep o’ nights now. If any wanderers come, the Baron and his brother policeman dog will take care of them.”

I whined to let him know I was listening, and he went on gaily, “There’s a great fashion of giving double sir-names and handles to dogs and horses’ names. You’re Boy of Pleasant River now, if it please you. You’re too distinguished for just plebeian Boy.”

I gave a kind of dog chuckle. How little I cared what I was called, as long as I was permitted to live with him.

It seemed to me my heart would burst with joy when the car drew up before the big hall door and dogs and human beings rushed out to greet me.

Good King Harry was there, and Cannie and Czarina, all barking and jumping with excitement and pleasure.

“Make way there, make way there for the distinguished hero--Boy of Pleasant River,” called master, and taking me in his arms, he carried me into the hall and laid me on the settle.

Mistress was about to lay hold of me, but drew back at the sight of my blackness.

“Oh! Rudolph,” she said, “I didn’t realise what the dark colour would be. It isn’t our Boy.”

“Yes, it is your Boy,” I squealed, and I reached my tongue far out and licked her hands.

“You poor, poor doggie,” she said, “how you have suffered,” and she patted and caressed me, and then examined her hands to see if the black came off.

“We’ll have it all washed off in a few days,” said master. “He’s a sick dog yet.”

Just here, I gave a sharp bark of excitement. Master had hinted at a surprise waiting for me, and now I knew what it was. The surprise was Beanie.

That dear dog was on his hind legs beside the settle, licking me, nosing me, assuring me that he loved me as well as he did the mournful day two years ago, when he had to go down South with Ellen.

I should, perhaps, have explained before, that the reason why Beanie never saw young George, and never came to Pleasant River, was on account of Ellen receiving sudden news of the illness of her only sister down in Virginia.

She had started off for that state in a great hurry, taking Beanie with her. The sister had died leaving her some money, and she had come back to New York to see her son Robert Lee, who was now married, and master had invited her to come out to Pleasant River.

“Beanie, Beanie,” I gasped, “how handsome you look--and if I’m not glad to see you. Where’s old Ellen?”

“There,” he exclaimed, looking over his shoulder, and lifting my head a little more, I saw Ellen coming down the staircase, leading young George. Bessie had gone away to care for a sick mother, and Ellen was taking care of our baby.

Wasn’t that good old woman glad to see me! “Why didn’t you run to old Ellen,” she said lovingly, “the way you did when you was lost before?”

My mind harked back to the time I first saw her, but I could not very well explain that this affair had been different from my voluntary running away.

Young George’s face was a study. He had heard that his playmate had come back, and he had his fresh young mouth wide open, as if he were going to swallow something nice.

At first, I felt sorry that they had allowed him to see me in my present state. He was only a baby. My colour would frighten him, and he would think I was a strange dog.

That is where I miscalculated. I might have known how he would take the thing, and I might have remembered how often I have said, that children are cleverer than grown people.

His dear mother was shrinking a little bit from me. George, after getting off the staircase, trotted up to me, and threw his arms round my neck. He didn’t hesitate an instant. He knew I was his own Borsie.

“Bad man,” he said after he had nearly hugged me to death, “bad man--make Dordie’s Borsie brack!” and seizing a corner of his little pajama jacket, he spat on it, and tried to rub some of my dye off.

His mother exclaimed, “How primitive--George, my darling, don’t spit on things.”

“’Pittin’s easy,” he said, and he started to polish me off again, when his father interfered, and promising him the pleasure of properly washing some of the colour off the next day, sent him back to bed.

As he climbed upstairs, holding tight to Ellen’s hand, I heard a gentle noise such as a cat might make, and leaning my head over the settle, saw Amarilla toddling toward me.

What a little skeleton!--I was terribly shocked.

“Poor girlie,” said mistress, “now you will get fat,” and she lifted her up beside me.

Amarilla never said a word. She gave me a perfectly heart-rending glance from her big frightened eyes, and cuddled up close to me. She lay there till they carried me up to master’s room, when she followed behind like a little mourner.

“Amarilla!” called mistress later on, when I had been placed on my own bed which was a big French _bergère_ in master’s dressing-room, “aren’t you coming to sleep in my room?”

I heard a little stirring beside my chair, but she did not go to mistress.

“Claudia,” said master, “I advise you to leave her in the same room with Boy for a day or two. She has had a great fright about him. She will go back to you later.”

“Very well,” said mistress in her pretty voice, and master bending down took the trembling Amarilla, and put her on a cushioned bench close to my chair. “You mustn’t touch his bandaged feet, doggie,” he said to her, but there was no need of warning her. The anxious little dog just wished to be near me. She was dazed from suffering, and was afraid that I would go away again. What a faithful little heart!

“Amarilla,” I said, “I missed you and Gringo more than any other of the dogs.”

She still said nothing, but she stretched out her tiny pink tongue, and licked my bandages very softly.

“Go to sleep,” I said, “we shall have some fine romps on the lawn when my feet get better.”

She drew a long, pitiful sigh, and closed her eyes. How could any one ever ill-treat a timid shrinking thing like that. I can understand how a man can beat a fox-terrier but a toy-spaniel--never!

I did not go to sleep for some time, for there was something on my mind. I wanted to see Gringo. I wondered that the dear old fellow had not been over to welcome me. Surely he knew that I had come home. I thought he would be the first to greet me. Surely that lie would not be bothering him yet.