Читать книгу Trackers of the Fog Pack; Or, Jack Ralston Flying Blind - Newcomb Ambrose - Страница 2

“Some excitement, I own up, Perk,” agreed Jack, exchanging a look of inquiry with his companion. “Dog fight, like as not, since I thought I heard a yowling just then, as if one mutt’d got his in the neck.”

“Jest hear the people a shoutin’ will yeou?” snapped Perk.

“But that doesn’t sound like they were enjoying themselves a heap, I’d say, boy – such screaming and yelling – they’re badly rattled over whatever’s going on. What could it all mean, I wonder?”

“Hot-diggetty-dig! we’ll know right soon, ole hoss; ’cause it’s headin’ this way – gettin’ a heap louder ev’ry second, I vow! Guess yeou struck it right when yeou sez they must be skeered into a near panic. Don’t hear no guns agoin’ off, so it cain’t be a brawl ’tween drunken bootleggers an’ town constables. Well, I swan, it gets me – look at the folks a beatin’ it to the houses, like they reckoned they’d be safer there. Mebbe we better shin up a telegraph pole like that youngster’s a doin’ over yonder – he means to git high an’ dry, so’s to see the circus, but not take chances with the runaway animal’s flyin’ heels. Wow! what’s this I lamp a comin’ ’reound that corner, waggin’ his ole head from side to side – a big yeller dog, Jack, with foam a drippin’ from his open red mouth! Great guns!”

“That beast is as mad as a hatter!” boomed Jack, thrilled by the frightful sight. “He’s bound to own the whole street, no matter if a battalion of cops try to sheer him off!”

“Mebbe, mate,” Perk was shouting “we’d better be steppin’ to one side in a hurry; I ain’t lost nary dog; an’ I’m not fool enough to want to stand up ’fore one that’s rabid – not Gabe Perkiser! Get a move on, Jack, an’ vamose!”

“Wait up!” cried the other, for so great was the clamor no one could expect to be heard unless he fairly shouted.

“Excuse me, boy – I got a date!” Perk bellowed back, grinning as he spoke.

“Look ahead, Perk – that child – little boy he is – fell down in his fright, and must’ve sprained his ankle – see him try to scramble up again; but he can’t manage it, what with his fright and twisted ankle. The dog – it’s making straight for the youngster – we can’t stand by, and see him tackle such a mere baby – we’ve just got to do something, Perk!”

“Sure do, partner – let’s go!”

Others were running in every direction save toward the great ugly beast, thinking in their panicky state of nerves only of their own safety. All the while the shouts continued to go booming along the length of Main Street:

“Mad dog! mad dog! everybody run – get the children indoors! He’s rabid and ready to snap at anybody in his way! Run for it!”

But the poor little baby directly in the path of the oncoming demon could not heed the shouts – vainly he tried to crawl to one side, his terrified eyes fixed on that dreadful vision of fury and rabies confronting him, and drawing closer with every passing second.

Jack and Perk were galloping forward with all their might, intending to throw themselves between the child and that stumbling terror with the lolling head and dripping jaws.

It could be seen that Perk was gripped by a sudden inspiration – he had dragged some sort of object from his pocket, and was working feverishly with the same. Jack understood, and inwardly blessed the lucky chance that had caused his pal to fetch his old war weapon out to his friend the town gunsmith, so as to have it put in first-class condition. It must have been the hand of a kind fate that brought about this wonderful coincidence, Jack was telling himself, when guessing that the running airman must be trying with all his cleverness to insert a cartridge or two into the chambers of the small, antiquated six-shooter.

Fortune favored them, for they were enabled to pass beyond the writhing and shrieking child, thus facing the danger themselves as a shield to buck up against the charge of the mad dog.

Perk dropped down on one knee – it was the natural position for one to assume under such conditions, bringing him more on a level with the beast. Jack, too, knew he had a part in the scheme to save the tiny lad – lacking a weapon of any kind he could not stand by Perk; but one thing was left to him, which was to snatch up the imperiled child, and leap to safety before the crisis crashed upon them.

Even as he was thus bearing the lad out of the danger zone, he caught a sudden explosion that told him Perk had sent in a shot. It was his bosom pal crouched back there with that shaggy beast almost upon him; for he knew full well Perk had waited until he could make doubly certain of his aim.

Somehow Jack could not keep from turning his head, so as to know the worst – he had a cold feeling in the region of his heart, undoubtedly fearing he would discover Perk engaged in a furious struggle at close quarters with the animal, one bite from whose jaws would contaminate the flesh his cruel fangs thus mangled.

But that fear was instantly put to flight – Perk still knelt there, while the furious beast writhed on the ground, making frightful efforts to get up on its four feet again.

This he no sooner succeeded in doing than Perk let him have a second leaden pill, working his keepsake weapon of the great war with mechanical precision. How lucky then he must have succeeded in thrusting two cartridges into the maw of his gun, since there proved to be such great need of an encore.

It was “all over but the shouting,” as Perk himself would have put it. He rose to his feet, and coolly stepped forward, to bend over and see that there no longer remained a single breath in the carcase of the terrible brute he had stayed in his mad passage through the town.

The tenor of the wild shouts changed like magic – joy and triumph, not to say relief, began to be heard, as if reassuring the frightened populace there was no longer anything to be feared – the ogre Jabberwock had been laid low, and once again the length of Main Street could be traversed without peril to life and limb.

And the one who had performed this valorous deed seemed only anxious to make himself scarce before the worshiping citizens could lay hands on him – shower him with thanks, perhaps kisses as well from the gentler sex, who knew a hero in the flesh as well as on the Hollywood screen.

Jack was trying the best he knew how to allay the terror of the child he still held in his arms, speaking to him with assurance in his tones, and squeezing the white-faced little chap close to his heart.

“It’s all right, buddy,” he kept saying, with a comforting smile on his face, that was bound to stop the trembling sobs of the other, if anything could. “The ugly dog can’t hurt you, for he’s been killed, and can never bite anybody. You must have hurt your ankle, little brother; I’m going to carry you to where you live, so they can take care of you, and get the kind doctor to take the pain away. Put your arms around my neck, and I’ll be able to hold you better – that’s the way, kiddie; you know I’m a good friend of yours, don’t you?”

The crowd was all around them by this time, milling so as to get as close as possible – it reminded Jack of cattle being rounded up by expert punchers, so as to be shipped to market, or it might be, branded.

“Stand back, please, and give us air!” Jack called out, to add: “Perk, see that they don’t crowd in any further. I’m not going to be satisfied until I’ve seen this little lad safe in his home. Who knows where he lives?”

There were a dozen voices raised in explanations; but Jack lifted a hand to stop the confused racket.

“Hold up on that!” he told them, sharply; “I want just one person to tell me – here, you boy, you seem to know him okay – tell me his name, will you, and where he lives – nobody else break in now, get that? Go on, George, speak up!”

“My name’s Jimmy – his’n is Laddy Boy – he lives with his granny Mrs. Fergussan right ’round that next corner, in a little shack.”

“Fine for you Jimmy – lead us to it; and please everybody stop pushing – that shouting must be dropped, or you’ll have the old lady frightened half to death before we get there. Now start along, Jimmy – you’re a good pal to tie to, I’ll say.”

So they made a start, with scores following after them, all talking; but in more subdued tones. Possibly they realized that this young chap with the capable look, and firm voice, was one accustomed to having his orders obeyed without any questions being asked, and that he would brook no interference.

As they turned into the side street the young pilot hastened to point in the direction of a small old, but respectable looking cottage of some three rooms, that was surrounded by masses of flowers in full bloom.

Jack could see the door of the small house was wide open, and that an elderly woman stood there, shading her eyes with a hand, as she watched the approach of the crowd. Undoubtedly she must have heard what had been so loudly shouted, when the mad dog was causing such a panic on Main Street – she may even have started toward the nearby corner, with a great fear tugging at her heart, knowing her Laddie Boy was going about on the little errand she had entrusted to him; but if so fear had driven her back to the home, where she could slam the door shut in case personal peril threatened her.

Seeing Jack in the lead of the procession, carrying some object in his arms, she came flying down to meet him, looking aghast.

“Don’t be so alarmed Mrs. Ferguson,” Jack said, sympathizing with her new fears; “he wasn’t bitten by the dog; but had the bad luck to sprain his ankle. It’s nothing serious, I’m telling you straight – lead the way, and I’ll put him on a bed, when you can send for the doctor to look him over; but don’t worry – he’s safe enough, I promise you.”

Presently Jack joined his partner.

“Let’s go, matey,” Perk hastened to say, uneasily, as though he feared those admiring good folks outside were actually conspiring to pick him up on their shoulders, and march around town with the hero of the mad dog scare; something like that, but to which he was very must averse.

“Wait a few minutes,” Jack told his nervous comrade, “I promised the old lady I’d stay out here until the doctor had looked the child over; she wants to get the story out of us, I imagine, guessing something queer must have happened, from the way those folks kept pawing at us.”

Perk drew a long breath, and muttered something under his breath that sounded like “drat the tough luck;” but he did settle down on a chair, and amused himself looking around the room, on the walls of which were a number of cheap pictures, also several portraits.

“Come over here, Perk,” Jack was saying, as he stood in front of the picture of a man, “here’s a queer happening – look at that face – have you ever seen it before?”