Читать книгу Dawn - S. Fowler Wright - Страница 11

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Muriel came up the road in excellent spirits, even more heavily loaded than usual, and with such articles as no woman, even an ex-Zulu missionary, can regard with indifference, especially one whose wardrobe was in the condition from which Muriel’s suffered.

She was walking as rapidly as she could for there were heavy clouds coming from the direction of Cowley Thorn, and she was anxious to get “home” before the storm should drench her plunder. Gumbo was trotting before her, equally impatient for his own reasons, thinking of the evening meal with the appetite of a young and healthy dog, whose life had become an almost ceaseless rat-hunt.

They were clear of the village, and in sight of the church, which they were approaching from the lower road, when a dog jumped up from the wayside ditch and stood in the center of the road, with a lifted tail, and an air of dubious hesitation.

The two dogs advanced slowly. Their noses touched. It is impossible to say how much was communicated between them. But whatever passed, it was a cause of instant antagonism. The dog that has taken to unmastered living will never tolerate those still content with a human servitude, and the ill feeling is returned with even greater intensity.

The two dogs backed from each other, growling deeply. The liver-colored mongrel had no thought of retreating from an enemy less than half his size, and Gumbo, aware that he stood between his mistress and the forces of anarchy, was equally resolute.

The rush of the bigger dog carried the terrier off his feet, and the two rolled together for some yards, a snarling dust-hidden heap, from which they broke apart, with their positions reversed, Gumbo now facing his mistress, and the bigger dog between them.

The big dog came again with a rush that Gumbo dodged with difficulty, and the next moment the two were struggling, with a flurry of snapping jaws, and a pandemonium of outcry, sinking to one rumbling growl as the big dog got the choking grip that he sought upon the throat of his enemy.

Muriel might be an exponent of the gospel of peace, but she was not of the kind to stand aside from a conflict of this character. The stick she had picked up from the roadside was little help; it broke the first time she applied it; but it was unfortunate for the strange dog that, like Gumbo, he was still encumbered by his late owner’s collar. It offered an inviting grip for Muriel’s hands—which became a choking one as her fingers worked in beneath it.

Bill Horton, watching the fight from the side of the road with an expert’s appreciation, was roused to unusual articulation at the lady’s temerity. “Don’t do that, miss. You’ll get bit for sure,” he protested, as he advanced to her assistance, with no clear purpose in his mind. Bill had no brains worth mentioning, but he knew a dog-fight as something very good to watch, and very bad to join.

The choking pull of Muriel’s hands in the mongrel’s collar, and Gumbo’s struggles beneath him, combined to free the latter animal from the grip that held him. The big dog, having his jaws free, became a greater menace to the woman. For the moment he ignored the terrier, who had regained his feet, but was in poor condition to renew the conflict. He struggled savagely to twist free, and use his teeth upon Muriel.

“Don’t loose now, miss,” implored the anxious Bill, moving up to help, but uncertain how to begin. He saw that her peril would be increased at once should she loose her grip on the collar. She saw it too, and held on desperately.

Bill, having arrived at the idea, by whatever laborious mental process, that an extra hand might be useful to choke the struggling animal, made a grab at the collar. The dog, seeing his purpose, dodged, and tried to bolt, dragging Muriel along several paces. She stumbled over some impediment in the road, and came to her knees, her grip failing as she did so.

The dog turned on her quickly, the wet jaws striking her throat as a rifle sounded, and he collapsed on the road. He rolled over, howling dismally, the sound sinking to a whimper, which was quickly silent. He twitched, and lay still.

Muriel got up breathlessly from the dust. The two men were on their knees in the road, collecting an assortment of feminine garments which had scattered from the parcel which she had dropped when she went to the rescue of Gumbo, and over which she had fallen as the dog dragged her along.

“I must thank you both,” she said, as they rose, and faced one another. Bill Horton grinned sheepishly.

Jack said: “That’s nothing. But I’m glad we came. It was a nasty brute for you to tackle.”

He looked with some respect at the woman before him. He thought vaguely that he had seen her somewhere. It was the voice of a cultured woman, quiet and musical. The figure was small and slight. He hesitated as to her age. She was not young, but she had very clear gray eyes, and a girl’s complexion, her natural paleness being overcome by the exertions of the last five minutes. She might be forty.

He said: “We came to tell you that it’s not safe here, and to ask you to go back with us. We thought there were two of you. Are you alone?”

Muriel liked his directness. She answered frankly: “There were two. There was a child that died.... Why isn’t it safe here?”

“I can’t tell you in a word. Can we sit somewhere?”

Muriel hesitated. She did not care to introduce such strangers to her secret stores. Then the habit of a lifetime conquered. “Yes; you’d better come with me to the church. That’s where I’ve been living.”

She turned her eyes to Gumbo, who sat licking his wounds, with as ecstatic a countenance as nature permits a smooth-haired terrier to exhibit. His tail thumped the ground in self-approbation as he saw that the attention of the party was directed upon him. He wasn’t quite clear as to how the dog had died, but he was quite sure that he had done well.

Bill Horton looked him over critically. “He won’t hurt,” he said, meaning something quite different.

Gumbo supported the verdict by jumping up, briskly enough, as they commenced to move toward the church.