Beautiful Joe, Marshall Saunders [historical books to read .TXT] 📗

CHAPTER XXVII (A NEGLECTED STABLE)

I had not been on the ground more than a few seconds, before I turned my

eyes from Miss Laura to the log hut. It was deathly quiet, there was not

a sound coming from it, but the air was full of queer smells, and I was

so uneasy that I could not lie still. There was something the matter

with Fleetfoot, too. He was pawing the ground and whinnying, and

looking, not after Mr. Harry, but toward the log building.

 

"Joe," said Miss Laura, "what is the matter with you and Fleetfoot? Why

don't you stand still? Is there any stranger about?" and she peered out

of the buggy.

 

I knew there was something wrong somewhere, but I didn't know what it

was; so I stretched myself up on the step of the buggy, and licked her

hand, and barking, to ask her to excuse me, I ran off to the other side

of the log hut. There was a door there, but it was closed, and propped

firmly up by a plank that I could not move, scratch as hard as I liked.

I was determined to get in, so I jumped against the door, and tore and

bit at the plank, till Miss Laura came to help me.

 

"You won't find anything but rats in that ramshackle old place,

Beautiful Joe," she said, as she pulled the plank away; "and as you

don't hurt them, I don't see what you want to get in for. However, you

are a sensible dog, and usually have a reason for having your own way,

so I am going to let you have it."

 

The plank fell down as she spoke, and she pulled open the rough door and

looked in. There was no window inside, only the light that streamed

through the door, so that for an instant she could see nothing. "Is any

one here?" she asked, in her clear, sweet voice. There was no answer,

except a low, moaning sound. "Why, some poor creature is in trouble,

Joe," said Miss Laura, cheerfully. "Let us see what it is," and she

stepped inside.

 

I shall never forget seeing my dear Miss Laura going into that wet and

filthy log house, holding up her white dress in her hands, her face a

picture of pain and horror. There were two rough stalls in it, and in

the first one was tied a cow, with a calf lying beside her. I could

never have believed, if I had not seen it with my own eyes, that an

animal could get so thin as that cow was. Her backbone rose up high and

sharp, her hip bones stuck away out, and all her body seemed shrunken

There were sores on her sides, and the smell from her stall was

terrible. Miss Laura gave one cry of pity, then with a very pale face

she dropped her dress, and seizing a little penknife from her pocket,

she hacked at the rope that tied the cow to the manger, and cut it so

that the cow could lie down. The first thing the poor cow did was to

lick her calf, but it was quite dead. I used to think Jenkins's cows

were thin enough, but he never had one that looked like this. Her head

was like the head of a skeleton, and her eyes had such a famished look,

that I turned away, sick at heart, to think that she had suffered so.

 

When the cow lay down, the moaning noise stopped, for she had been

making it. Miss Laura ran outdoors, snatched a handful of grass and took

it in to her. The cow ate it gratefully, but slowly, for her strength

seemed all gone.

 

Miss Laura then went into the other stall to see if there was any

creature there. There had been a horse. There was now a lean,

gaunt-looking animal lying on the ground, that seemed as if he was dead.

There was a heavy rope knotted round his neck, and fastened to his empty

rack. Miss Laura stepped carefully between his feet, cut the rope and

going outside the stall spoke kindly to him. He moved his ears slightly,

raised his head, tried to get up, fell back again, tried again, and

succeeded in staggering outdoors after Miss Laura, who kept encouraging

him, and then he fell down on the grass.

 

Fleetfoot stared at the miserable-looking creature as if he did not know

what it was. The horse had no sores on his body, as the cow had, nor was

he quite so lean; but he was the weakest, most distressed-looking animal

that I ever saw. The flies settled on him, and Miss Laura had to keep

driving them away. He was a white horse, with some kind of pale-colored

eyes, and whenever he turned them on Miss Laura, she would look away.

She did not cry, as she often did over the sick and suffering animals.

This seemed too bad for tears. She just hovered over that poor horse

with her face as white as her dress, and an expression of fright in her

eyes. Oh, how dirty he was! I would never have imagined that a horse

could get in such a condition.

 

All this had only taken a few minutes, and just after she got the horse

out, Mr. Harry appeared. He came out of the house with a slow step, that

quickened to a run when he saw Miss Laura. "Laura!" he exclaimed, "what

are you doing?" Then he stopped and looked at the horse, not in

amazement, but very sorrowfully. "Barron is gone," he said, and

crumpling up a piece of paper, he put it in his pocket "What is to be

done for these animals? There is a cow, isn't there?"

 

He stepped to the door of the log hut, glanced in, and said, quickly:

"Do you feel able to drive home?"

 

"Yes," said Miss Laura.

 

"Sure?" and he eyed her anxiously.

 

"Yes, yes," she returned; "what shall I get?"

 

"Just tell father that Barron has run away and left a starving pig, cow,

and horse. There's not a thing to eat here. He'll know what to do. I'll

drive you to the road."

 

Miss Laura got into the buggy and Mr. Harry jumped in after her. He

drove her to the road and put down the bars; then he said: "Go straight

You'll soon be on the open road, and there's nothing to harm you.

Joe will look after you. Meanwhile I'll go back to the house and heat

some water."

 

Miss Laura let Fleetfoot go as fast as he liked on the way home, and it

only seemed a few minutes before we drove into the yard. Adele came out

to meet us. "Where's uncle?" asked Miss Laura.

 

"Gone to de big meadow," said Adele.

 

"And auntie?"

 

"She had de colds and chills, and entered into de bed to keep warm. She

lose herself in sleep now. You not go near her."

 

"Are there none of the men about?" asked Miss Laura.

 

"No, mademoiselle. Dey all occupied way off."

 

"Then you help me, Adele, like a good girl," said Miss Laura, hurrying

into the house. "We've found a sick horse and cow. What shall I take

them?"

 

"Nearly all animals like de bran mash," said Adele.

 

"Good!" cried Miss Laura. "That is the very thing. Put in the things to

make it, will you please, and I would like some vegetables for the cow.

Carrots, turnips, anything you have; take some of those you have

prepared for dinner tomorrow, and please run up to the barn, Adele, and

get some hay, and corn, and oats, not much, for we'll be going back

again; but hurry, for the poor things are starving, and have you any

milk for the pig? Put it in one of those tin kettles with covers."

 

For a few minutes, Miss Laura and Adele flew about the kitchen, then we

set off again. Miss Laura took me in the buggy, for I was out of breath

and wheezing greatly. I had to sit on the seat beside her, for the

bottom of the buggy and the back were full of eatables for the poor sick

animals. Just as we drove into the road, we met Mr. Wood. "Are you

running away with the farm?" he said with a laugh, pointing to the

carrot tops that were gaily waving over the dashboard.

 

Miss Laura said a few words to him, and with a very grave face he got in

beside her. In a short time, we were back on the lonely road. Mr. Harry

was waiting at the gate for us, and when he saw Miss Laura, he said,

"Why did you come jack again? You'll be tired out. This isn't a place

for a sensitive girl like you."

 

"I thought I might be of some use," said she, gently.

 

"So you can," said Mr. Wood. "You go into the house and sit down, and

Harry and I will come to you when we want cheering up. What have you

been doing, Harry?"

 

"I've watered them a little, and got a good fire going. I scarcely think

the cow will pull through. I think we'll save the horse. I tried to get

the cow out-doors, but she can't move."

 

"Let her alone," said Mr. Wood. "Give her some food and her strength

will come to her. What have you got here?" and he began to take the

things out of the buggy. "Bless the child, she's thought of everything,

even the salt. Bring those things into the house, Harry, and we'll make

a bran mash."

 

For more than an hour they were fussing over the animals. Then they came

in and sat down. The inside of the Englishman's house was as untidy as

the outside. There was no upstairs to it--only one large room with a

dirty curtain stretched across it. On one side was a low bed with a heap

of clothes on it, a chair and a wash-stand. On the other was a stove, a

table, a shaky rocking-chair that Miss Laura was sitting in, a few

hanging shelves with some dishes and books on them, and two or three

small boxes that had evidently been used for seats.

 

On the walls were tacked some pictures of grand houses and ladies and

gentlemen in fine clothes, and Miss Laura said that some of them were

noble people. "Well, I'm glad this particular nobleman has left us,"

said Mr. Wood, seating himself on one of the boxes, "if nobleman he is.

I should call him in plain English, a scoundrel. Did Harry show you his

note?"

 

"No, uncle," said Miss Laura.

 

"Read it aloud," said Mr. Wood. "I'd like to hear it again."

 

Miss Laura read:

 

WOOD, Esq.

Dear Sir:--It is a matter of great regret to me that I am suddenly

called away from my place at Penhollow, and will, therefore, not be

able to do myself the pleasure of calling on you and settling my

little account. I sincerely hope that the possession of my live stock

which I make entirely over to you, will more than reimburse you for

any trifling expense which you may have incurred on my account. If it

is any gratification to you to know that you have rendered a slight

assistance to the son of one of England's noblest noblemen, you have

With expressions of the deepest respect, and hoping that my stock

may be in good condition when you take possession,

 

I am, dear sir, ever devotedly yours,

HOWARD ALGERNON LEDUC BARRON.

 

Miss Laura dropped the paper. "Uncle, did he leave those animals to

starve?"

 

"Didn't you notice," said Mr. Wood, grimly, "that there wasn't a wisp of

hay inside that shanty, and that where the poor beasts were tied up the

wood was knawed and bitten by them in their torture for food? Wouldn't

he have sent me that note, instead of leaving it here on the table, if

he'd wanted me to know? The note isn't dated, but I judge he's been gone

five or six days. He has had a spite against me ever since I lent him

that hundred dollars. I don't know why, for I've stood up for him when

others would have run him out of the place. He intended me to come here

and find every animal lying dead.

 

"He even had a rope around the pig's neck. Harry, my boy, let us go and

look after them again. I love a dumb brute too well to let it suffer,

but in