Chapter 5

PAT LOST AND FOUND.

For two days in the year at the annual fair, the quiet little town of Weyn gave itself up to merrymaking. Shows and caravans choked the narrow streets; huge roundabouts as "patronised by all the crowned heads of Europe," swung giddily round in the market-place, and the shouts of the stall-keepers, and the din of the orchestra, and the ceaseless crack of the rifle ranges, where boys were shooting for cocoa-nuts, made a noise that was almost deafening.

The piles of gingerbread and coloured rock on the stalls looked very tempting, and Dick, with Pat in his arms, and three-and-ninepence in his pocket, felt rich as he walked by. But though he liked sweet things, all the more because he had had so few to enjoy, he would not be tempted to buy.

"Don't believe Lionheart had cakes and candy--not when he was on the crusades, anyhow. It must be bread and cheese, and maybe a whole ha'poth of milk for us, Pat, to-day. When I'm a fitter you shall have a good meaty bone every day of your life!"

Pat looked up, as if he quite understood, and on some old stone steps in one of the quieter streets they were soon sharing rations, with appetites that a duke might have envied.

"Here, boy, hold my horse for a couple of minutes, will you? Don't let go; he doesn't like this pandemonium any better than I do."

In a moment Dick was on his feet and ready for business, and for the second time that day he gripped a bit of strap, with the resolve to hold on at all costs.

Only _this_ horse was a beautiful chestnut, with a coat like satin, and harness that must have cost more than carrier Brown's whole turn-out.

The gentleman went into the post-office opposite, but the noise of the fair evidently upset the spirited horse, and he was very restless and impatiently pawed the ground and tossed his head.

"What a lot of stamps he must be getting!" thought Dick, when five minutes had gone by and there was still no sign of the rider's return. A party of children, blowing penny trumpets, clattered past and the horse gave a spring that taxed Dick's wrists to the utmost.

He was too busy and anxious to think about Pat, so he did not see or hear the girl in the orange scarf steal up to him and offer a dainty piece of meat, as he sat patiently waiting behind. Alas! for dogs' nature, the temptation was too great! He followed the decoy for a few yards and was then allowed to seize the bait. In a moment a black shawl was flung over the silky head, and the dog was snatched up and carried round the corner and across the Market Place.

Pat struggled and snapped and barked in vain, and the girl hurried through the town to a back lane where a number of caravans were drawn up out of the way. At one of these the showman in the velveteen coat was standing, and he instantly opened an inner compartment and, giving Pat a sharp blow, thrust him inside and turned the key.

"Good for you, Meg!" he cried with a chuckle. "That dog 'll be worth money to the show, by the time I've trained him. 'The Wonderful Black and Tan Performer,' &c. We'll keep him shut up till we're far from here, and if any questions is asked it's our dog, and that boy's a thief that have stole him from our 'appy 'ome."

"All right, dad, that's a good idea. We'll go back to the Square now. They won't be likely to come and look here."

The Post Office was very full that morning, and the girl behind the counter looked worried, as she tried to meet all the demands of hurried customers.

But at last the owner of the chestnut horse got his business of money orders and telegrams finished and came out.

"That's right, my lad; here's sixpence for your trouble," he said as he took the reins from Dick and mounted and rode off.

"Sixpence." Another good payment for a small piece of hard work!

Dick looked down triumphantly at the coin, but his face changed in a moment. This was no sixpence, such as he had often been entrusted with on Mrs. Fowley's errands, but a coin of shining yellow gold.

"It's half a sovereign," he cried breathlessly, and just for one moment the thought came, "Now I can take the train and ride to Ironboro'. Surely ten shillings would buy a ticket for all the way."

But like a flash the temptation came and went. "Lionhearts don't steal," he cried as he dashed down the street after the horseman crying, "Stop! Stop!"

But the fleet and spirited horse was already far on the way, and though Dick ran as fast as his feet could go the distance increased every moment.

He would have had no chance of success but for a carriage coming in the opposite direction. It carried several ladies and the rider reined in his horse for a chat.

Dick ran on and reached the group just as the rider was preparing to go on again.

"You are followed," said one of the ladies softly. "I am sure this boy wants to speak to you."

The rider looked round, and recognising Dick said, "Well, my boy, what is it?"

"The money sir, please, you said you gave me sixpence and it was half a sovereign. I've brought it back."

"Well done. There's one honest boy in the fair, at any rate. Take this for your trouble, but don't spend it all on ginger bread."

"Oh, thank you, sir, I shan't spend any. I'm going to Ironboro'."

"But that is a hundred miles off, at least. Why are you going so far?" asked the lady.

"To find my uncle and learn to be an engineer."

"H'm, a large order for a small man," said the gentleman kindly. "Here, I'll give you a character that may help you more than money." And tearing a leaf out of his pocket book, he wrote on it, "I have proved the bearer to be a quick and honest boy. Dale Melville."

"There, laddie, that name is known in Ironboro', and it may do you a good turn."

"Are you going alone?" asked the lady with white hair, who had been listening to all that passed, and seemed amused at Dick's gratitude.

"Oh, yes, ma'am--at least only Pat and me. He is my little dog, you know."

Then with sudden recollection he turned hurriedly and looked for his faithful follower. But there was no Pat in sight, and flushing painfully, he cried, "Oh, he's left behind. I must run back at once, or he'll be lost in the fair."

And scarcely waiting to lift his old cap to the ladies, he darted back towards the town. Thrusting the new half-crown deep into his pocket, he sped on, calling Pat and whistling for him in vain.

"Maybe he dropped asleep from tiredness, and I'll find him by the steps again."

But there was no trace of the little dog there, and Dick felt very unlike Lionheart as he searched for his lost companion, and asked all the passers by if they had seen him. But all the people seemed intent on their own pleasure, and for an hour Dick walked up and down without any tidings of Pat.

Then a mischievous looking urchin playing marbles looked up as Dick passed and said mysteriously, "I know about your dog, but I shan't tell for nothing. Give me a penny, for a ride on the gallopin' horses." Dick put a penny into the grimy hand, and the boy said in a loud whisper, "A girl had him while you was holding the horse--'ticed him off with a piece of meat. I see her."

"What was she like?" cried Dick eagerly, "and which way did she go?"

"Down the Market Place, and she was belonging to one of the shows. She was bigger'n you, and she had a yellow scarf on and eardrops."

The girl on the caravan whose master had wanted Pat! Dick had the clue now, but how could he recover his treasure?

Shutting his eyes for a moment he prayed to his Heavenly Father for help, and then began another tour of the shows.

There were dogs in plenty, ugly and lean-looking curs lying on the straw under the waggons or loafing around the shops in search of plunder, but none at all like Pat.

Again and again as he passed he called and whistled, but there was no answering bark. Suddenly he saw the girl just inside a gaily painted show while her father stood on the steps and called out, "Walk up, ladies and gentlemen! Walk up and see the smallest dwarf in the world with his performing happy family, dogs and cats and birds, all living together. Only 2d., for the greatest wonder of the age."

Without a moment's hesitation, Dick ran forward and said to the girl, "What have you done with my dog? Please let me have him back at once!"

"Your dog," she said with a toss of her head that set the earrings dancing. "I like your impudence. Haven't seen or heard of your dog."

"But you had him and took him away; a boy told me so!"

"Haven't seen him, I tell you."

"Now, you young rascal, be off at once, or I'll give you in charge!" said the man threateningly. "Coming here with such cock-and-bull tales."

"What's it all about?" said a tall policeman, stepping forward.

"Why, this young varmint has lost his dog and comes here after it, as cheeky as can be. We ain't got no dog except the happy family one in here as we've had for years, and that's a white one, as you can see for yourself."

"Was yours white?" said the officer to Dick.

"No, sir, black and tan. A boy told me he saw that girl pick him up and run off."

"Best go and find the boy," said the policeman not unkindly, "then we'll see."

"I'll make it hot for you, if you show your impudent face here again!" shouted the man, who was red with passion. He grew redder still as the officer asked quickly, "How did you know this dog was not white?"

"They've got him, I know they have," Dick muttered as he turned away with a sob in his throat. "James Cross--that's the name on the show, and I'll follow them everywhere, till I get Pat back."

But he went through all the Fair again, without finding any trace of the boy who had told him. Presently he saw the empty waggons drawn up in the side alley, and with fresh hope in his heart he hurried along.

And in the last in the row "James Cross" was painted and, from somewhere within, there came a low, unhappy whine.

Instantly Dick was at the door calling "Pat!" and whistling the familiar call, and this was answered by a storm of eager muffled barking. The locked door was shaken in vain, and there was no possible way of rescue there.

But Dick rushed back to the middle of the Fair, and going at once to the friendly policeman cried, "I've found him! I've found him! He's locked up in their waggon down that side street. Oh, please make them come and let him out."

"Is this true?" said the officer sternly to the showman, who had heard every word. "Have you got his dog?"

"'Tisn't his, it's mine. The young rascal stole him from me and now wants to make out it's his own."

"But you said just now you hadn't got another dog. When did he steal it?"

"This morning, and I got him back, of course."

"I didn't steal it, sir," cried Dick indignantly. "It's my very own. Come and hear how he barks when I call him."

"Come and let him out at once," said the officer, "and we'll soon settle the ownership."

"Can't leave the show," muttered the man angrily.

"Oh, yes, you can. It isn't far, and this girl can manage without you!"

The man sullenly got down and marched along most unwillingly with the officer and Dick, followed by an interested crowd.

"Now open the door; there's a dog in there, undoubtedly. We shall know directly who's telling the truth."

Two doors were unlocked, and then like a small whirlwind Pat scrambled out, rushed to Dick's feet and grovelled there in an ecstasy of joy. "Hum, considering you say this boy only stole him this morning, they've got uncommon fond of one another! Call him and see if he'll come to you." But the showman's wiles were in vain. Pat would not go near him.

"Have you any witnesses to prove he's yours, my lad?"

Dick thought a moment and said, "I couldn't find the boy who saw him stolen from me. But Mr. Brown the carrier knows. He heard this man offer to buy Pat this morning."

"Run round to the George Yard and ask Brown to step here a minute, if he's still there."

Two or three messengers at once darted away.

"Anything else in proof?"

"He'll do tricks for me, sir."

And Dick stooped and whispered in Pat's ear, and the dog, not at all abashed by the cheers and laughter of the crowd, begged and danced and sang in his very best manner, till Mr. Brown appeared, driving his carrier's van, for he was just starting again for the homeward journey. His emphatic testimony settled what nobody doubted, and the officer prepared to take the showman to the lock-up.

But Dick's only desire was to get away as soon as possible on his delayed journey, and he begged that nothing more might be said about prosecution.

So the showman was allowed to go, scowling and muttering, and the crowd jeered as he went, though more than one present would have been willing to risk stealing and its penalties for the possession of Pat.

"Best get away at once, and don't let him out of your sight again," said the man in blue, kindly. "That dog's too fetching to be on the road with such a small owner."

"Better both jump up into the van and go back with me to Turningham," said carrier Brown. "I want a boy to help with the horse and do odd jobs about the shop, and I know the missus would take to you and the dog. You've been a brave boy and a smart one to-day. Eighteen-pence a week and your keep to begin. Come, now!"

But Dick shook his head.

"I'm ever so much obliged, sir, but I must go on to Ironboro', whatever happens."

"Well, then, take my advice and train it as far as your money will go. A ticket for thirty or forty miles will get you beyond the beat of these fair folks, and be cheaper than tramping in the end. Jump up, and I'll drive round by the station and see about a train. Nonsense about trouble. You've saved me more than that to-day."

Dick made a rapid calculation, and felt that he could not spend more wisely the rider's half-crown, and, indeed, all the wonderful takings of the day, and in a few minutes he found himself in the corner of a third class carriage, bound northwards, with a ticket good for forty miles of travel in his hand, and Pat's fare "seen to" by his kind-hearted friend.