CHAPTER XVIII
"I must apologize for having brought Aleck, my dog, you know, withme," began Arthur Heigham; "but the fact was, that at the very lastmoment the man I was going to leave him with had to go away, and I hadno time to find another place before the train left. I thought that,if you objected to dogs, he could easily be sent somewhere into thevillage. He is very good-tempered, though appearances are againsthim."
"Oh! he will be all right, I daresay," said George, rather sulkily;for, with the exception of Snarleyow, in whose fiendish temper hefound something refreshing and congenial, he liked no dogs. "But youmust be careful, or Snarleyow, _my_ dog, will give him a hammering.Here, good dog, good dog," and he attempted to pat Aleck on the head,but the animal growled savagely, and avoided him.
"I never knew him do that before," ejaculated Arthur, in confusion,and heartily wishing Aleck somewhere else. "I suppose he has taken adislike to you. Dogs do sometimes, you know."
Next second it struck him that this was one of those things that hadbetter have been left unsaid, and he grew more uncomfortable thanever. But at this very moment the situation was rendered intenselylively by the approach of the redoubtable Snarleyow himself, who,having snapped at the horse's heels all the way to the stables, had onhis return to the front of the house spotted Aleck from afar. He wasnow advancing on tiptoe in full order of battle, his wicked-lookingteeth gleaming, and his coat and tail standing out like an angrybear's.
Arthur, already sufficiently put out about the dog question, thoughtit best to take no notice; and even when he distinctly heard Georgequietly "sah" on his dog as he passed him, he contented himself withgiving Aleck a kick by way of a warning to behave himself, and enteredinto some desultory conversation with Philip. But presently a seriesof growls behind him announced that an encounter was imminent. Lookinground, he perceived that Snarleyow was standing over the bull-dog, ofwhich he was more than twice the size, and holding on to the skin ofhis neck with his long teeth; whilst George was looking on withscarcely suppressed amusement.
"I think, Mr. Caresfoot, that you had better call your dog off," saidArthur, good-temperedly. "Mine is a peaceable animal, but he is anawkward customer when he does fight."
"Oh! better let them settle it; they will be much better friendsafterwards. Hold him, Snarleyow."
Thus encouraged, the big dog seized the other, and fairly lifted himoff the ground, shaking him violently--a proceeding that had theeffect of thoroughly rousing Aleck's temper. And then began a mostHomeric combat. At first the bull-dog was dreadfully mauled; hisantagonist's size, weight, and length of leg and jaw, to say nothingof the thick coat by which he was protected, all telling against him.But he took his punishment very quietly, never so much as uttering agrowl, in strange contrast to the big dog's vociferous style of doingbusiness. And at last patience was rewarded by his enemy's fore-pawfinding its way into Aleck's powerful jaw, and remaining there tillSnarleyow's attentions to the back of his neck forced him to shift hishold. From that time forward the sheep-dog had to fight on three legs,which he found demoralizing. But still he had the advantage, and itwas not until any other dog of Aleck's size would have retreated halfkilled that the bull-dog's superior courage and stamina began to tell.Quite heedless of his injuries, and the blood that poured into hiseyes, he slowly but surely drove the great sheep-dog, who by this timewould have been glad to stop, back into an angle of the wall, and thensuddenly pinned him by the throat. Down went Snarleyow on the top ofthe bull-dog, and rolled right over him, but when he staggered to hislegs again, his throat was still in its cruel grip.
"Take your dog off!" shouted George, seeing that affairs had taken aturn he very little expected.
"I fear that is impossible," replied Arthur, politely, but lookinganything but polite.
"If you don't get it off, I will shoot it."
"You will do nothing of the sort, Mr. Caresfoot; you set the dog on,and you must take the consequences. Ah! the affair is finished."
As he spoke, the choking Snarleyow, whose black tongue was protrudingfrom his jaws, gave one last convulsive struggle, and ceased tobreathe. Satisfied with this result, Aleck let go, and having sniffedcontemptuously at his dead antagonist, returned to his master's side,and, sitting quietly down, began to lick such of his numerous woundsas he could reach.
George, when he realized that his favourite was dead, turned upon hisguest in a perfect fury. His face looked like a devil's. But Arthur,acting with wonderful self-possession for so young a man, stopped him.
"Remember, Mr. Caresfoot, before you say anything that you may regret,that neither I nor my dog is to blame for what has happened. I amexceedingly sorry that your dog should have been killed, but it isyour own fault. I am afraid, however, that, after what has happened, Ishall be as unwelcome here as Aleck; so, if you will kindly order thecart for me again, I will move on. Our business can no doubt befinished off by letter."
George made no reply: it was evident that he could not trust himselfto speak, but, turning sullenly on his heel, walked towards the house.
"Wait a bit, Mr. Heigham," said Philip, who had been watching thewhole scene with secret delight. "You are perfectly in the right. Iwill go and try to bring my cousin to his senses. I am very thankfulto your dog for killing that accursed brute."
He was away for about ten minutes, during which Arthur took Aleck to afountain there was in the centre of a grass plot in front of thehouse, and washed his many wounds, none of which, however, were,thanks to the looseness of his hide, very serious. Just as he hadfinished that operation, a gardener arrived with a wheelbarrow tofetch away the deceased Snarleyow.
"Lord, sir," he said to Arthur, "I am glad to have the job of tuckingup this here brute. He bit my missus last week, and killed a wholeclutch of early ducks. I seed the row through the bushes. That 'eredog of yours, sir, he did fight in proper style; I should like to havea dog like he."
Just then the re-arrival of Philip put a stop to the conversation.Drawing Arthur aside, he told him that George begged to apologize forwhat had occurred, and hoped that he would not think of going away.
"But," added Philip, with a little laugh, "I don't pretend that he hastaken a fancy to you, and, if I were you, I should cut my visitshort."
"That is exactly my view of the case. I will leave to-morrow evening."
Philip made no further remarks for a few moments. He was evidentlythinking. Presently he said,
"I see you have a fishing-rod amongst your things; if you find thetime hang heavy on your hands to-morrow, or wish to keep out of theway, you had better come over to Bratham Lake and fish. There are somevery large carp and perch there, and pike too, for the matter of that,but they are out of season."
Arthur thanked him, and said that he should probably come, and, havingreceived instructions as to the road, they parted, Arthur to go andshut up Aleck in an outhouse pointed out to him by his friend thegardener, and thence to dress for a dinner that he looked forward towith dread, and Philip to make his way home. As he passed up throughthe little flower-garden at the Abbey House, he came across hisdaughter, picking the blight from her shooting rose-trees.
"Angela," he said, "I am sorry if I offended your prejudices thisafternoon. Don't let us say anything more about it; but I want you tocome and pay a formal call with me at Isleworth to-morrow. It willonly be civil that you should do so."
"I never paid a call in my life," she answered, doubtfully, "and Idon't want to call on my cousin George."
"Oh! very well," and he began to move on. She stopped him.
"I will go, if you like."
"At three o'clock, then. Oh! by the way, don't be surprised if you seea young gentleman fishing here to-morrow."
Angela reflected to herself that she had never yet seen a younggentleman to speak to in her life, and then asked, with undisguisedinterest, who he was.
"Well, he is a sort of connection of your own, through the Prestons,who are cousins of ours, if any of them are left. His mother wa
s aPreston, and his name is Arthur Preston Heigham. George told mesomething about him just now, and, on thinking it over, I remember thewhole story. He is an orphan, and George's ward."
"What is he like?" asked Angela, ingenuously.
"Really I don't know; rather tall, I think--a gentlemanly fellow. Itreally is a relief to speak to a gentleman again. There has been anice disturbance at Isleworth," and then he told his daughter thehistory of the great dog fight.
"I should think Mr. Heigham was perfectly in the right, and I shouldlike to see his dog," was her comment on the occurrence.