Chapter VI: The Mad Dog—the Bear

"YOURS looks a very long story, Tom," whispered Jessy, as, after tea, they all adjourned to the drawing-room again.

"Copied—all copied; I took that hint from you. It is much easier to write other people's words, and one is more certain to give the story all right."

"Who was your hero?"

"A brewer."

"A brewer! That is strange!"

"Oh! A brewer on a grand scale, and a member of Parliament. He was one who struggled hard to get justice done to poor slaves. You should read his life—the Life of Fowell Buxton; it is very interesting, at least the parts that I have read of it. I have only dipped into it here and there, but Percy has read it right through, I believe."

"Poor Percy! He cannot amuse himself like other boys, so he is doubly fond of his book."

Mrs. Gore opened her Tunbridge-ware box, and resumed her much interrupted work. Little Willy crept to his mother's side, and looked his thanks for all the trouble that she had taken for him, for he had dictated, not written his tale. Old Mrs. Presgrave was comfortably placed on the sofa, and the lamp carefully screened from her eyes; again the packet of papers was produced, and Mr. Presgrave read as follows, Fowell's own account of a perilous adventure:

Tom's Tale.

THE MAD DOG.

"As you must hear the story of our dog Prince, may as well tell it you."

"On Thursday morning, when I got on my horse at S. Hoare's, David told me that there was something the matter with Prince, that he had killed the cat, and almost killed the new dog, and had bit at him and Elizabeth. I ordered him to be tied up, and taken care of, and then rode off to town. When I got into Hampstead I saw Prince covered with mud, and running furiously, and biting at everything. I saw him bite at least a dozen dogs, two boys, and a man."

"Of course, I was exceedingly alarmed, being persuaded he was mad. I tried every effort to stop or kill him, or to drive him into some outhouse, but in vain. At last he sprang up at a boy, and seized him by the breast. Happily I was near him, and knocked him off with my whip. He then set off towards London, and I rode by his side, waiting for some opportunity of stopping him. I constantly spoke to him, but he paid no regard to coaxing or scolding. You may suppose I was seriously alarmed, dreading the immense mischief he might do, having seen him do so much in the few preceding minutes. I was terrified at the idea of his getting into Camden Town and London, and at length considering that if ever there was an occasion that justified a risk of life, this was it, I determined to catch him myself. Happily, he ran up to Pryor's gate, and I threw myself from my horse upon him, and caught him by the neck; he bit at me and struggled, but without effect ..."

"His struggles were so desperate that it seemed at first impossible to hold him, till I lifted him up in the air, when he was more easily managed, and I contrived to ring the bell. I was afraid that the foam which was pouring from his mouth, in his furious efforts to bite me, might get into some scratch and do me injury; so, with great difficulty, I held him with one hand, while I put the other into my pocket and forced on my glove; then I did the same with my other hand."

"And at last the gardener opened the door, saying, 'What do you want?'"

"'I've brought you a mad dog,' replied I, and telling him to get a strong chain, I walked into the yard, carrying the dog by his neck. I determined not to kill him, as I thought if he should prove not to be mad, it would be such a satisfaction to the three persons whom he had bitten."

"I made the gardener (who was in a terrible fright) secure the collar round his neck, and fix the other end of the chain to a tree, and then walking to its farthest range, with all my force, which was nearly exhausted by his frantic struggles, I flung him away from me, and sprang back. He made a desperate bound after me, but finding himself foiled, he uttered the most fearful yell I ever heard ..."

"The next day when I went to see him, I thought that the chain seemed worn, so I pinned him to the ground between the prongs of a pitchfork, and then fixed a much larger chain round his neck. When I pulled off the fork, he sprang up, and made a dash at me, which snapped the old chain in two. He died in forty-eight hours from the time he went mad."

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"Well, what I admire in that man's conduct," said Jessy, "was his thought all along for others. He could easily have escaped himself from the dog."

"And when he seized it, it would have been far easier to kill than to keep it," subjoined Tom.

"Sir Fowell Buxton was one who carried religion into everyday life," observed Mrs. Gore, "and devoted his time and his talents to the service of his God. It was remarked of him that he went through the world like a man passing through the wards of an hospital, and stooping down on all sides to administer help where it was needed."

"I should like to grow up to be such a man," observed Willy.

"Tom's story of an act of generous self-exposure to danger for the sake of others reminds me," said Mr. Presgrave, "of an account which I read to-day of two little boys' adventure with a bear. If my dear Julia will hand me that large green book, and open it at the place where I have left my paper-knife, I think that you all will listen with interest to an extract from Lloyd's 'Scandinavian Adventures.'"

THE BEAR.

"Two boys, cousins, one of ten, the other twelve years of age," so we read in a Swedish journal of the 13th November, 1851, "were, on the 1st of last October, tending their parents' cows and sheep on the outskirts of the forest in the parish of Evje, in Norway. Towards evening a bear, followed by two cubs, suddenly rushed towards the herd."

"'The bear is here!' exclaimed the elder of the lads to the younger, who was at some little distance—'Pass opp! Pass opp!' That is, look out! Look out!"

"At this time, the beast was in the act of chasing one of the sheep; and though the boy was provided only with a stick, he instantly ran to the rescue, and held up his frail weapon in a menacing way towards the bear. But the odds were too unequal; for on his near approach, she rose on her hind legs, and laid the gallant little fellow prostrate."

"The younger boy, on hearing the cries of the elder, made forthwith to the spot, where he found the bear lying over his cousin, and the fangs of the beast in contact with his head. In that part of the country, even the smallest lad wears a knife, suspended by a belt, about the waist. Such was the case with our little hero, who forthwith attempted to draw the weapon; but owing to rain that had fallen in the morning, the wooden handle of the knife stuck fast in the scabbard, and his efforts to disengage it proved unsuccessful. Nothing daunted, however, and armed only with a stick, he went straight up to the bear, and commenced belabouring her hind quarters. Thus unceremoniously attacked, the beast, uttering a deep growl, sprang to her feet, and, strange to say, moved sullenly off, without offering him any kind of molestation."

"As soon as she had left her victim, and while making a second dash at the identical sheep previously chased (which, owing to the rest of the flock having run-off in an opposite direction, stood stock still, as if bewildered), the little fellow drew his knife—the attempt having in this instance proved successful—and brandishing the shining blade, he, with menacing gestures, thus addressed the bear: 'Be off with you! make yourself scarce, or you shall see how I will serve you!' A form of words, coupled with a display of bright steel, of which that beast, according to the superstitious notions of the peasantry, is mortally afraid."

"The wounded boy having by this time risen to his feet, presently joined his comrade; and whilst the two little fellows thus battled with the bear, the hunted sheep, benefiting by the opportune diversion in its favour, succeeded in effecting its escape."

"The bears now retreated, when the lads hastened home with the cattle, leaving the beasts no other trophy than the cap of the elder, that they had carried off, and which, riven nearly in pieces, was afterwards found at some distance from the scene of conflict."

"The clothes of the wounded boy were torn to rags, and he himself sorely bitten; but he is, nevertheless, now so far recovered as to herd cattle as before."

"'What would you have done had the bear carried off your cousin?' was the question put to the younger lad after the occurrence. 'Then I myself should never have returned home,' was his reply; 'we should have shared alike!'"

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"Brave boy!" exclaimed Louis.

"Faithful friend!" murmured Percy.

"I wonder if any one of us would have done so much for a companion!" said Willy in a musing tone.

"I am half afraid not," replied Julia.

"And why so, jewel?" cried the boys.

"Because—because—" said she, hesitating—"it is not very likely that we should be ready to give up our lives for another—when we are so very seldom ready to—to—"

"To give up our wills," added Mr. Presgrave, smiling. "Our selfishness is the bear that we fear to fight—our evil temper the mad dog that we must chain down and subdue."