Ranson's Folly (Fiscle Part 3), Richard Harding Davis [best novel books to read TXT] 📗

Fastened All My Teeth In His Ankle,  Just Across The Bone.

 

When I Woke,  After The Pals Had Kicked Me Off Him,  I Was In The

Smoking-Car Of A Railroad-Train,  Lying In The Lap Of The Little

Groom,  And He Was Rubbing My Open Wounds With A Greasy,  Yellow Stuff,

Exquisite To The Smell,  And Most Agreeable To Lick Off.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Part Ii

 

 

 

 

 

"Well--What's Your Name--Nolan? Well,  Nolan,  These References Are

Satisfactory," Said The Young Gentleman My New Master Called "Mr.

Wyndham,  Sir." "I'll Take You On As Second Man. You Can Begin To-

Day."

 

My New Master Shuffled His Feet,  And Put His Finger To His Forehead.

"Thank You,  Sir," Says He. Then He Choked Like He Had Swallowed A

Fish-Bone. "I Have A Little Dawg,  Sir," Says He.

 

"You Can't Keep Him," Says "Mr. Wyndham,  Sir," Very Short.

 

"'Es Only A Puppy,  Sir," Says My New Master; "'E Wouldn't Go Outside

The Stables,  Sir."

 

"It's Not That," Says "Mr. Wyndham,  Sir;" "I Have A Large Kennel Of

Very Fine Dogs; They're The Best Of Their Breed In America. I Don't

Allow Strange Dogs On The Premises."

 

The Master Shakes His Head,  And Motions Me With His Cap,  And I Crept

Out From Behind The Door. "I'm Sorry,  Sir," Says The Master. "Then I

Can't Take The Place. I Can't Get Along Without The Dog,  Sir."

 

"Mr. Wyndham,  Sir," Looked At Me That Fierce That I Guessed He Was

Going To Whip Me,  So I Turned Over On My Back And Begged With My Legs

And Tail.

 

"Why,  You Beat Him!" Says "Mr. Wyndham,  Sir," Very Stern.

 

"No Fear!" The Master Says,  Getting Very Red. "The Party I Bought Him

Off Taught Him That. He Never Learnt That From Me!" He Picked Me Up

In His Arms,  And To Show "Mr. Wyndham,  Sir," How Well I Loved The

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Master,  I Bit His Chin And Hands.

 

"Mr. Wyndham,  Sir," Turned Over The Letters The Master Had Given Him.

"Well,  These References Certainly Are Very Strong," He Says. "I Guess

I'll Let The Dog Stay This Time. Only See You Keep Him Away From The

Kennels--Or You'll Both Go."

 

"Thank You,  Sir," Says The Master,  Grinning Like A Cat When She's

Safe Behind The Area-Railing.

 

"He's Not A Bad Bull-Terrier," Says "Mr. Wyndham,  Sir," Feeling My

Head. "Not That I Know Much About The Smooth-Coated Breeds. My Dogs

Are St. Bernards." He Stopped Patting Me And Held Up My Nose. "What's

The Matter With His Ears?" He Says. "They're Chewed To Pieces. Is

This A Fighting Dog?" He Asks,  Quick And Rough-Like.

 

I Could Have Laughed. If He Hadn't Been Holding My Nose,  I Certainly

Would Have Had A Good Grin At Him. Me,  The Best Under Thirty Pounds

In The Province Of Quebec,  And Him Asking If I Was A Fighting Dog! I

Ran To The Master And Hung Down My Head Modest-Like,  Waiting For Him

To Tell My List Of Battles,  But The Master He Coughs In His Cap Most

Painful. "Fightin' Dog,  Sir," He Cries. "Lor' Bless You,  Sir,  The Kid

Don't Know The Word. 'Es Just A Puppy,  Sir,  Same As You See; A Pet

Dog,  So To Speak. 'Es A Regular Old Lady's Lap-Dog,  The Kid Is."

 

"Well,  You Keep Him Away From My St. Bernards," Says "Mr. Wyndham,

Sir," "Or They Might Make A Mouthful Of Him."

 

"Yes,  Sir,  That They Might," Says The Master. But When We Gets

Outside He Slaps His Knee And Laughs Inside Hisself,  And Winks At Me

Most Sociable.

 

The Master's New Home Was In The Country,  In A Province They Called

Long Island. There Was A High Stone Wall About His Home With Big Iron

Gates To It,  Same As Godfrey's Brewery; And There Was A House With

Five Red Roofs,  And The Stables,  Where I Lived,  Was Cleaner Than The

Aerated Bakery-Shop,  And Then There Was The Kennels,  But They Was

Like Nothing Else In This World That Ever I See. For The First Days I

Couldn't Sleep Of Nights For Fear Someone Would Catch Me Lying In

Such A Cleaned-Up Place,  And Would Chase Me Out Of It,  And When I Did

Fall To Sleep I'd Dream I Was Back In The Old Master's Attic,

Shivering Under The Rusty Stove,  Which Never Had No Coals In It,  With

The Master Flat On His Back On The Cold Floor With His Clothes On.

And I'd Wake Up,  Scared And Whimpering,  And Find Myself On The New

Master's Cot With His Hand On The Quilt Beside Me; And I'd See The

Glow Of The Big Stove,  And Hear The High-Quality Horses Below-Stairs

Stamping In Their Straw-Lined Boxes,  And I'd Snoop The Sweet Smell Of

Hay And Harness-Soap,  And Go To Sleep Again.

 

The Stables Was My Jail,  So The Master Said,  But I Don't Ask No

Better Home Than That Jail.

 

"Now,  Kid," Says He,  Sitting On The Top Of A Bucket Upside Down,

"You've Got To Understand This. When I Whistle It Means You're Not To

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Go Out Of This 'Ere Yard. These Stables Is Your Jail. And If You

Leave 'Em I'll Have To Leave 'Em,  Too,  And Over The Seas,  In The

County Mayo,  An Old Mother Will 'Ave To Leave Her Bit Of A Cottage.

For Two Pounds I Must Be Sending Her Every Month,  Or She'll Have

Naught To Eat,  Nor No Thatch Over 'Er Head; So,  I Can't Lose My

Place,  Kid,  An' See You Don't Lose It For Me. You Must Keep Away From

The Kennels," Says He; "They're Not For The Likes Of You. The Kennels

Are For The Quality. I Wouldn't Take A Litter Of Them Woolly Dogs For

One Wag Of Your Tail,  Kid,  But For All That They Are Your Betters,

Same As The Gentry Up In The Big House Are My Betters. I Know My

Place And Keep Away From The Gentry,  And You Keep Away From The

Champions."

 

So I Never Goes Out Of The Stables. All Day I Just Lay In The Sun On

The Stone Flags,  Licking My Jaws,  And Watching The Grooms Wash Down

The Carriages,  And The Only Care I Had Was To See They Didn't Get Gay

And Turn The Hose On Me. There Wasn't Even A Single Rat To Plague Me.

Such Stables I Never Did See.

 

"Nolan," Says The Head-Groom,  "Some Day That Dog Of Yours Will Give

You The Slip. You Can't Keep A Street-Dog Tied Up All His Life. It's

Against His Natur'." The Head-Groom Is A Nice Old Gentleman,  But He

Doesn't Know Everything. Just As Though I'd Been A Street-Dog Because

I Liked It. As If I'd Rather Poke For My Vittles In Ash-Heaps Than

Have 'Em Handed Me In A Wash-Basin,  And Would Sooner Bite And Fight

Than Be Polite And Sociable. If I'd Had Mother There I Couldn't Have

Asked For Nothing More. But I'd Think Of Her Snooping In The Gutters,

Or Freezing Of Nights Under The Bridges,  Or,  What's Worse Of All,

Running Through The Hot Streets With Her Tongue Down,  So Wild And

Crazy For A Drink,  That The People Would Shout "Mad Dog" At Her,  And

Stone Her. Water's So Good,  That I Don't Blame The Men-Folks For

Locking It Up Inside Their Houses,  But When The Hot Days Come,  I

Think They Might Remember That Those Are The Dog-Days And Leave A

Little Water Outside In A Trough,  Like They Do For The Horses. Then

We Wouldn't Go Mad,  And The Policemen Wouldn't Shoot Us. I Had So

Much Of Everything I Wanted That It Made Me Think A Lot Of The Days

When I Hadn't Nothing,  And If I Could Have Given What I Had To

Mother,  As She Used To Share With Me,  I'd Have Been The Happiest Dog

In The Land. Not That I Wasn't Happy Then,  And Most Grateful To The

Master,  Too,  And If I'd Only Minded Him,  The Trouble Wouldn't Have

Come Again.

 

But One Day The Coachman Says That The Little Lady They Called Miss

Dorothy Had Come Back From School,  And That Same Morning She Runs

Over To The Stables To Pat Her Ponies,  And She Sees Me.

 

"Oh,  What A Nice Little,  White Little Dog," Said She; "Whose Little

Dog Are You?" Says She.

 

"That's My Dog,  Miss," Says The Master. "'Is Name Is Kid," And I Ran

Up To Her Most Polite,  And Licks Her Fingers,  For I Never See So

Pretty And Kind A Lady.

 

"You Must Come With Me And Call On My New Puppies," Says She,  Picking

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Me Up In Her Arms And Starting Off With Me.

 

"Oh,  But Please,  Miss," Cries Nolan,  "Mr. Wyndham Give Orders That

The Kid's Not To Go To The Kennels."

 

"That'll Be All Right," Says The Little Lady; "They're My Kennels

Too. And The Puppies Will Like To Play With Him."

 

You Wouldn't Believe Me If I Was To Tell You Of The Style Of Them

Quality-Dogs. If I Hadn't Seen It Myself I Wouldn't Have Believed It

Neither. The Viceroy Of Canada Don't Live No Better. There Was Forty

Of Them,  But Each One Had His Own House And A Yard--Most Exclusive--

And A Cot And A Drinking-Basin All To Hisself. They Had Servants

Standing 'Round Waiting To Feed 'Em When They Was Hungry,  And Valets

To Wash 'Em; And They Had Their Hair Combed And Brushed Like The

Grooms Must When They Go Out On The Box. Even The Puppies Had

Overcoats With Their Names On 'Em In Blue Letters,  And The Name Of

Each Of Those They Called Champions Was Painted Up Fine Over His

Front Door Just Like It Was A Public-House Or A Veterinary's. They

Were The Biggest St. Bernards I Ever Did See. I Could Have Walked

Under Them If They'd Have Let Me. But They Were Very Proud And

Haughty Dogs,  And Looked Only Once At Me,  And Then Sniffed In The

Air. The Little Lady's Own Dog Was An Old Gentleman Bull-Dog. He'd

Come Along With Us,  And When He Notices How Taken Aback I Was With

All I See,  'E Turned Quite Kind And Affable And Showed Me About.

 

"Jimmy Jocks," Miss Dorothy Called Him,  But,  Owing To His Weight,  He

Walked Most Dignified And Slow,  Waddling Like A Duck As You Might

Say,  And Looked Much Too Proud And Handsome For Such A Silly Name.

 

"That's The Runway,  And That's The Trophy House," Says He To Me,  "And

That Over