Chapter 4

IN A CARRIER'S WAGGON.

There was a good breakfast ready by candle light next morning, and then Dick and Paddy parted, with an affectionate good-bye. When the hooters summoned the hands to the tin works at seven o'clock Pat and his little master were out on the dark north road, with houses and lamplight left far behind.

At first they went quickly, for fear of pursuit, but, as the short day wore on, Dick lost his fears and enjoyed Pat's runs and gambols by the roadside. Apparently he quite realised the new position, and had no regrets at leaving Paddy for his lawful owner.

Their noonday lunch, provided by their kind Friend, tasted wonderfully good, but both the travellers were feeling very tired before any prospect of the next meal came in sight. The brief daylight was already fading when they saw a neat thatched cottage, standing back from the roadside.

Close to the rustic gate was a heap of firewood, logs and blocks and smaller chips together, and an old woman was stooping painfully, trying to carry them in.

"Let me help you," cried Dick, hurrying forward, "I'd be so glad of a job!"

The worker looked sharply at him, and at once said, with a sigh of relief, "I don't mind if you do. Carry them into the woodshed there and stack them tidy, and I'll give you three-pence. You look honest, and that's a nice little dog you've got."

"Yes, isn't he? Sit up, Pat!"

The old woman laughed, as Pat stood up obediently on his tired little legs and begged, and Dick went on, "I don't beg myself, though I am tramping, but Pat learned to do it before we came."

And encouraged by this friendly notice Pat wagged his tail and immediately followed the old woman into her bright kitchen and stretched himself on the gay rag carpet before the fire.

Like her, he kept one eye on the little toiler outside, but Dick had set to work with a will. He plodded on, making a threefold stack in the woodshed, with the logs at one end and the blocks at the other, and all the chips in the middle.

"Must be Lionheart when there's threepence to be earned, even if you are tired all over," he murmured, as he trudged to and fro. Presently a cheerful sound of teacups and a delightful smell of toast came from the cottage, and then the old woman brought out a broom to sweep up the mess.

"That's right, my lad. Why, bless me, you _have_ been quick! And you've stacked them a sight better than I could myself. You shall wash your hands and come in and have some tea before you go on. As to the little dog I should like to keep him, he's so pretty and peart. I s'pose you don't want to part with him?"

"Oh, no, thank you, ma'am," said Dick quickly, "but I _should_ like some tea, I am so thirsty." And in five minutes Dick was sitting at the round table and telling Mrs. Grey a little bit of his story, while Pat finished a saucerful of sop and then looked up knowingly at his master, as if to say, "These are famous quarters--don't tramp any further to-night."

"Poor boy," said Mrs. Grey, as she wiped her spectacles, "it's a long way for you to go, and coming on dead of winter too. I don't see how you're going to manage it. But you shall have a shakedown on the old sofa here, for to-night. I am sure I can trust you, or rather trust Him who said 'Inasmuch.'"

"I _knew_ He would help me," said Dick gratefully, "but I didn't expect anything so good as this."

"But He always gives more than our expectings or deservings," said the old woman kindly, as she put another log on the fire. "See what a splendid load of wood He's sent me for the winter, and then He sent you along, just in time to stow it away. As I get older my prayers always seem turned to praise before I've done, there's so much to be glad for."

Dick slept soundly on the old sofa, with Pat curled up at his feet, but he woke next morning in time to light the fire and put the kettle on, before Mrs. Grey came down. And, looking at his bright face and seeing his handy ways, she felt almost inclined to keep Pat _and_ his master.

But after breakfast they started at once, Dick's jacket pockets stuffed full of provisions and the threepenny bit jingling merrily against Paddy's half-crown. But there was no chance of earning more that day, and they had to sleep in the loose hay at the foot of a hay rick, belonging to a distant farm.

Fortunately the wind had changed and the weather was warmer, and they were none the worse for the camping out.

Dick was trudging manfully on a day or two afterwards, hoping to reach the town of Weyn before nightfall, when a lumbering carrier's waggon with a black canvas roof came jolting along, at a great rate, behind. "Steady, there! Whoa, I say. What ails thee now? Steady!"

The big brown horse was pulling and straining at the bit and looking very wild, while the driver tugged at the reins in a frantic attempt to pull up, and two women passengers inside the van began to scream.

Without a thought of danger Lionheart sprang from the side of the road and dashed towards the horse's head, clutching at the reins, and a farm labourer, coming in the opposite direction, threw up his arms in front.

Startled by this double onslaught the horse swerved and then stood still, trembling with fright.

"It's the strap!" cried Dick, breathlessly. "See, that strap has broken and the end was flicking his side, and that frightened him."

"Sure enough, and I couldn't think what ailed him," cried the driver, wiping the perspiration from his brow. "Seven years I've had Boxer, and he never played me that trick afore. I'm very much obliged to ye, my brave lad, and you too, friend, and I'll stand a shilling apiece and thankful. The canal bridge is just a half mile further on, and if he hadn't been stopped and the bridge had chanced to be open----"

The labourer took the shilling with a grin, and held the horse while the carrier mended the broken strap with string, but Dick said hesitatingly, "I don't want a whole shilling just for _trying_ to hold him, it's too much. But would you mind giving me a lift instead. We're going to Weyn, and we've walked such a long way."

"With all the pleasure in life," said carrier Brown, good-naturedly. "You want to get to fair, I suppose? Ah well, a fair's no good without money to spend. So take this and jump up. Boxer will be all right when he's had a bite from his nose-bag."

The inside of the van was like a cave, and the narrow seat that ran round the inside was packed with country folks and their baskets and parcels, going to the fair. Clean straw carpeted the floor, and a tiny glass window at the back, six inches square, let in a few murky rays of daylight. Two schoolboys shared the front seat with the driver, but he made a few inches of room for Dick, and Pat snuggled down contentedly at his feet.

The women inside talked loudly of their feelings when Boxer bolted, but the driver still looked pale and anxious, and Dick, feeling shaken now the strain was over, was very glad to lean back against the side and rest. Mile after mile they rumbled on, leaving the canal with its barges behind, and the low lying meadows with their fringes of elm and willow.

Sometimes the way lay through narrow lanes, where the branches almost met overhead, and the tangled hedgerows swept the canvas roof; and sometimes the road wound upwards, and Boxer plodded from side to side taking a zigzag course to ease the climbing, while Dick rested luxuriously and dreamed of Ironboro'. Gradually the way became less lonely, carts and waggons and droves of sheep were passed and houses were more frequently seen by the wayside, and from these groups of children came, talking joyously about the fair and counting their pennies as they went along.

Half-a-mile from the little town they had to wait. A gaily painted group of show waggons filled the roadway, for one of these had broken down, and for a time nothing could pass by.

There was a great noise of talking and shouting orders, and one big man, with tiny corkscrew curls of very black hair and silver rings in his ears and a coat of faded velveteen, stood close by the carrier's waggon and ordered others to do his bidding.

Pat was broad awake now, and when the carrier, seeing they would have to wait awhile, took out a lunch of bread and meat and began to cut it with a pocket knife, the dog stood on his hind legs and begged in his most insinuating way.

"He's as smart as his master," said the carrier, laughing, while the gipsy-like man turned and glanced keenly at the van.

"Does he know any more tricks?" asked one of the boys eagerly.

Dick bent down and whispered something to Pat, and he threw back his head, half shut his eyes, and gave vent to a succession of shrill howls that were the best music his voice was capable of, while his master whistled the air of "Killarney" as an accompaniment.

Everybody laughed, and then Pat made a funny little bow and held up his paw to shake hands.

"How much do you want for him?" said the showman in the velveteen coat. "I'm looking out for a smart little terrier to guard my show. I wouldn't mind a couple of shillings."

"He's not for sale, thank you," answered Dick politely.

"Nonsense! Every dog has a price, and most likely you've picked him up somewhere underhanded. So come along."

Dick flushed scarlet at the insult and again said "No!" decidedly.

The man turned and whispered something to a girl in an orange scarf and black and green frock, who had come out of the show waggon, and she tossed her head and laughed merrily. But now the broken caravan was pulled aside and the road was partly clear again, and the carrier drove on, and soon with a mighty flourish of the reins he stopped in front of the "George Inn" at Weyn, and everyone got down.