Beautiful Joe (8 page)

There was
a big clock in the hall, and every time it struck I waked up. Once, just after
it had struck some hour, I jumped up out of a sound nap. I had been dreaming
about my early home. Jenkins was after me with a whip, and my limbs were
quivering and trembling as if I had been trying to get away from him.

I sprang
up and shook myself. Then I took a turn around the room. The two girls were
breathing gently; I could scarcely hear them. I walked to the door and looked
out into the hall. There was a dim light burning there. The door of the nurse’s
room stood open. I went quietly to it and looked in. She was breathing heavily
and muttering in her sleep.

I went back
to my rug and tried to go to sleep, but I could not. Such an uneasy feeling was
upon me that I had to keep walking about. I went out into the hall again and
stood at the head of the staircase. I thought I would take a walk through the
lower hall, and then go to bed again.

The Drurys’
carpets were all like velvet, and my paws did not make a rattling on them as
they did on the oil cloth at the Morrises’. I crept down the stairs like a cat,
and walked along the lower hall, smelling under all the doors, listening as I
went. There was no night light burning down here, and it was quite dark, but if
there had been any strange person about I would have smelled him.

I was
surprised when I got near the farther end of the hall, to see a tiny gleam of
light shine for an instant from under the dining-room door. Then it went away
again. The dining room was the place to eat. Surely none of the people in the
house would be there after the supper we had. I went and sniffed under the
door. There was a smell there; a strong smell like beggars and poor people. It
smelled like Jenkins. It
was
Jenkins.

What was
the wretch doing in the house with my dear Miss Laura? I thought I would go
crazy. I scratched at the door, and barked and yelped. I sprang up on it, and
though I was quite a heavy dog by this time, I felt as light as a feather.

It seemed
to me that I would go mad if I could not get that door open. Every few seconds
I stopped and put my head down to the doorsill to listen. There was a rushing
about inside the room, and a chair fell over, and some one seemed to be getting
out of the window.

This made
me worse than ever. I did not stop to think that I was only a medium-sized dog,
and that Jenkins would probably kill me, if he got his hands on me. I was so
furious that I thought only of getting hold of him.

In the
midst of the noise that I made, there was a screaming and a rushing to and fro
upstairs. I ran up and down the hall, and halfway up the steps and back again.
I did not want Miss Laura to come down, but how was I to make her understand?
There she was, in her white gown, leaning over the railing, and holding back
her long hair, her face a picture of surprise and alarm.

“The dog
has gone mad,” screamed Miss Bessie. “Nurse, pour a pitcher of water on him.”

The nurse
was more sensible. She ran downstairs, her nightcap flying, and a blanket that
she had seized from her bed, trailing behind her. “There are thieves in the
house,” she shouted at the top of her voice, “and the dog has found it out.”

She did
not go near the dining-room door, but threw open the front one, crying, “Policeman!
Policeman! help, help, thieves, murder!”

Such a
screaming as that old woman made! She was worse than I was. I dashed by her,
out through the hall door, and away down to the gate, where I heard someone
running. I gave a few loud yelps to call Jim, and leaped the gate as the man
before me had done.

There was
something savage in me that night. I think it must have been the smell of
Jenkins. I felt as if I could tear him to pieces. I have never felt so wicked
since. I was hunting him, as he had hunted me and my mother, and the thought
gave me pleasure.

Old Jim
soon caught up with me, and I gave him a push with my nose, to let him know I
was glad he had come. We rushed swiftly on, and at the corner caught up with
the miserable man who was running away from us.

I gave an
angry growl, and jumping up, bit at his leg. He turned around, and though it
was not a very bright night, there was light enough for me to see the ugly face
of my old master.

He seemed
so angry to think that Jim and I dared to snap at him. He caught up a handful
of stones, and with some bad words threw them at us. Just then, away in front
of us, was a queer whistle, and then another one like it behind us. Jenkins
made a strange noise in his throat, and started to run down a side street, away
from the direction of the two whistles.

I was
afraid that he was going to get away, and though I could not hold him, I kept
springing up on him, and once I tripped him up. Oh, how furious he was! He
kicked me against the side of a wall, and gave me two or three hard blows with
a stick that he caught up, and kept throwing stones at me.

I would
not give in, though I could scarcely see him for the blood that was running
over my eyes. Old Jim got so angry whenever Jenkins touched me, that he ran up
behind and nipped his calves, to make him turn on him.

Soon
Jenkins came to a high wall, where he stopped, and with a hurried look behind,
began to climb over it. The wall was too high for me to jump. He was going to
escape. What shall I do? I barked as loudly as I could for someone to come, and
then sprang up and held him by the leg as he was getting over.

I had such
a grip, that I went over the wall with him, and left Jim on the other side.
Jenkins fell on his face in the earth. Then he got up, and with a look of
deadly hatred on his face, pounced upon me. If help had not come, I think he
would have dashed out my brains against the wall, as he dashed out my poor
little brothers’ against the horse’s stall. But just then there was a running
sound. Two men came down the street and sprang upon the wall, just where Jim
was leaping up and down and barking in distress.

I saw at
once by their uniform and the clubs in their hands, that they were policemen.
In one short instant they had hold of Jenkins. He gave up then, but he stood
snarling at me like an ugly dog. “If it hadn’t been for that cur, I’d never a
been caught. Why—,” and he staggered back and uttered a bad word, “it’s me own
dog.”

“More
shame to you,” said one of the policemen, sternly; “what have you been up to at
this time of night, to have your own dog and a quiet minister’s spaniel dog a-chasing
you through the street?”

Jenkins
began to swear and would not tell them anything. There was a house in the
garden, and just at this minute someone opened a window and called out: “Hallo,
there, what are you doing?”

“We’re
catching a thief, sir,” said one of the policemen, “leastwise I think that’s what
he’s been up to. Could you throw us down a bit of rope? We’ve no handcuffs
here, and one of us has to go to the lock-up and the other to Washington Street,
where there’s a woman yelling blue murder; and hurry up, please, sir.”

The
gentleman threw down a rope, and in two minutes Jenkins’ wrists were tied
together, and he was walked through the gate, saying bad words as fast as he
could to the policeman who was leading him. “Good dogs,” said the other
policeman to Jim and me. Then he ran up the street and we followed him.

As we
hurried along Washington Street, and came near our house, we saw lights
gleaming through the darkness, and heard people running to and fro. The nurse’s
shrieking had alarmed the neighborhood. The Morris boys were all out in the street
only half clad and shivering with cold, and the Drurys’ coachman, with no hat
on, and his hair sticking up all over his head, was running about with a
lantern.

The
neighbors’ houses were all lighted up, and a good many people were hanging out
of their windows and opening their doors, and calling to each other to know
what all this noise meant.

When the
policeman appeared with Jim and me at his heels, quite a crowd gathered around
him to hear his part of the story. Jim and I dropped on the ground panting as
hard as we could, and with little streams of water running from our tongues. We
were both pretty well used up. Jim’s back was bleeding in several places from
the stones that Jenkins had thrown at him, and I was a mass of bruises.

Presently
we were discovered, and then what a fuss was made over us. “Brave dogs! noble
dogs!” everybody said, and patted and praised us. We were very proud and happy,
and stood up and wagged our tails, at least Jim did, and I wagged what I could.
Then they found what a state we were in. Mrs. Morris cried, and catching me up
in her arms, ran in the house with me, and Jack followed with old Jim.

We all
went into the parlour. There was a good fire there, and Miss Laura and Miss
Bessie were sitting over it. They sprang up when they saw us, and right there
in the parlour washed our wounds, and made us lie down by the fire.

“You saved
our silver, brave Joe,” said Miss Bessie; “just wait till my papa and mamma
come home, and see what they will say. Well, Jack, what is the latest?” as the
Morris boys came trooping into the room.

“The
policeman has been questioning your nurse, and examining the dining room, and
has gone down to the station to make his report, and do you know what he has
found out?” said Jack, excitedly.

“No—what?”
asked Miss Bessie.

“Why that
villain was going to burn your house.”

Miss
Bessie gave a little shriek. “Why, what do you mean?”

“Well,”
said Jack, “they think by what they discovered, that he planned to pack his bag
with silver, and carry it off; but just before he did so he would pour oil
around the room, and set fire to it, so people would not find out that he had
been robbing you.”

“Why we
might have all been burned to death,” said Miss Bessie. “He couldn’t burn the
dining room without setting fire to the rest of the house.

“Certainly
not,” said Jack, “that shows what a villain he is.”

“Do they
know this for certain, Jack?” asked Miss Laura.

“Well,
they suppose so; they found some bottles of oil along with the bag he had for
the silver.”

“How horrible!
You darling old Joe, perhaps you saved our lives,” and pretty Miss Bessie
kissed my ugly, swollen head. I could do nothing but lick her little hand, but
always after that I thought a great deal of her.

It is now
some years since all this happened, and I might as well tell the end of it. The
next day the Drurys came home, and everything was found out about Jenkins. The
night they left Fairport he had been hanging about the station. He knew just
who were left in the house, for he had once supplied them with milk, and knew
all about their family. He had no customers at this time, for after Mr. Harry
rescued me, and that piece came out in the paper about him, he found that no
one would take milk from him. His wife died, and some kind people put his children
in an asylum, and he was obliged to sell Toby and the cows. Instead of learning
a lesson from all this, and leading a better life, he kept sinking lower.

He was,
therefore, ready for any kind of mischief that turned up, and when he saw the
Drurys going away in the train, he thought he would steal a bag of silver from
their sideboard, then set fire to the house, and run away and hide the silver.
After a time he would take it to some city and sell it.

He was
made to confess all this. Then for his wickedness he was sent to prison for ten
years, and I hope he will get to be a better man there, and be one after he
comes out.

I was sore
and stiff for a long time, and one day Mrs. Drury came over to see me. She did
not love dogs as the Morrises did. She tried to, but she could not.

Dogs can
see fun in things as well as people can, and I buried my muzzle in the
hearth-rug, so that she would not see how I was curling up my lip and smiling
at her.

“You—are—a—good—dog,”
she said, slowly. “You are”—then she stopped, and could not think of anything
else to say to me. I got up and stood in front of her, for a well-bred dog
should not lie down when a lady speaks to him. I wagged my body a little, and I
would gladly have said something to help her out of her difficulty, but I
couldn’t. If she had stroked me it might have helped her; but she didn’t want
to touch me, and I knew she didn’t want me to touch her, so I just stood
looking at her.

“Mrs.
Morris,” she said, turning from me with a puzzled face, “I don’t like animals,
and I can’t pretend to, for they always find me out; but can’t you let that dog
know that I shall feel eternally grateful to him for saving not only our
property for that is a trifle but my darling daughter from fright and
annoyance, and a possible injury or loss of life?”

“I think
he understands,” said Mrs. Morris. “He is a very wise dog.” And smiling in
great amusement, she called me to her and put my paws on her lap. “Look at that
lady, Joe. She is pleased with you for driving Jenkins away from her house. You
remember Jenkins?”

I barked
angrily and limped to the window.

“How
intelligent he is,” said Mrs. Drury. “My husband has sent to New York for a
watchdog, and he says that from this on our house shall never be without one.
Now I must go. Your dog is happy, Mrs. Morris, and I can do nothing for him,
except to say that I shall never forget him, and I wish he would come over
occasionally to see us. Perhaps when we get our dog he will. I shall tell my
cook whenever she sees him to give him something to eat. This is a souvenir for
Laura of that dreadful night. I feel under a deep obligation to you, so I am
sure you will allow her to accept it.” Then she gave Mrs. Morris a little box
and went away.

When Miss
Laura came in, she opened the box, and found in it a handsome diamond ring. On
the inside of it was engraved: “
Laura, in memory of December 20th, 18—. From
her grateful friend, Bessie.
”

The
diamond was worth hundreds of dollars, and Mrs. Morris told Miss Laura that she
had rather she would not wear it then, while she was a young girl. It was not
suitable for her, and she knew Mrs. Drury did not expect her to do so. She
wished to give her a valuable present, and this would always be worth a great
deal of money.