The Mynns' Mystery

  CHAPTER THIRTY THREE.

  MASTER'S STICK.

  "I beg your pardon. Really, Miss Bellwood, I did not expect to find youhere."

  "Mr--"

  "Harrington," he said, as she paused. "You need not be afraid to callme by that name; and George. They are mine, indeed."

  "I beg your pardon, Mr Harrington."

  Bruno uttered a low, ominous growl.

  "Your dog does not like me," he said.

  "You are a stranger."

  "At present; but not for long, I hope."

  "Quiet, Bruno!" she said, to hide her confusion. "He has been hurt verymuch. I brought him out here for a change."

  "Lucky dog," he said; and then in dread lest it might be considered animpertinence: "How was he hurt? Run over--a kick?"

  "No, poor fellow; somebody must have struck him a terrible blow on thehead."

  "Indeed! That's bad. Let me look at him. I understand a good dealabout dogs."

  "You do?" cried Gertrude eagerly.

  "Oh, yes. I have been in the wilds, sometimes for months, with no othercompanion than a dog. May I come through? There is quite a gap here."

  "A gap? Then let me bring Bruno to you," she said hastily.

  He smiled as he said to himself, "this is a strange position;" and heappreciated the maiden delicacy which prompted the words, and stoodreligiously on the field side of the hedge as Gertrude coaxed the dog tofollow her.

  Bruno rose painfully and walked to the gap, where he suddenly seemed torevive, for he growled fiercely, set up his ruff, and began to lookeagerly about, snuffling loudly the while.

  "Down, Bruno!" cried Gertrude excitedly. "He does not like you. Hemight bite."

  "He had better not," cried the young man merrily. "Dogs must not bitefriends--his mistress' friends," he added meaningly; and, as through theslightly broken opening in the yews he saw Gertrude shrink, he continuedhurriedly: "no, it is not at me, but at something about the grass. Oh,I see, he has found a broken stick."

  For as he spoke, the dog had ferreted out of the long grass, at the footof the hedge, a broken walking-stick--the upper part of a strong oakencudgel, whose top was a heavy root knob, over which he growled savagely.

  "Why, Bruno, what's the matter?" cried Gertrude. "Perhaps you hadbetter go."

  "Oh, no; I don't like to be afraid of a dog; and, besides, I think theyhave _nous_ enough to know when you mean well by them. Here, old chap,let's look at your head."

  Bruno ceased growling, and raised his muzzle with the stick across hismouth, as the young man parted the yew bushes and knelt down.

  "Yes, Bruno--good dog--friends," said Gertrude nervously.

  "He does not quite believe it yet," said the young man. "Suppose youshake hands with me."

  She hesitated a moment as she looked in his eyes, but they were so frankand pleasant to gaze upon that she halted no longer, but placed her handin his, and then tried to snatch it back in alarm, but it was pinionedtightly in a warm, firm pressure.

  "There Bruno," he said, "your mistress and I are friends, and she willnever have one more faithful and true. Now, old fellow," he added,loosing the hand, "let's have that stick. Good dog. What are yougrowling at?"

  He took the stick from the dog, threw it down, and then quietly laid hishand upon his head; then placed the other on the side, and the dogwhimpered softly.

  "Hurt you, old fellow? well, I'll be more gentle, but I must examineyou. Poor lad, then. Why, you have been in the wars. You ought to bedead."

  "Oh!" ejaculated Gertrude.

  "I only meant the blow was bad enough to have killed him. Do you knowhow serious it is?"

  "I know it was a dreadful cut, but it is healing now."

  "Cut? The poor dog's skull is fractured. A regular crack. Has heseemed stupid and dull?"

  Gertrude could not answer for a few moments for the sob that choked her;and, as the impromptu surgeon looked up in her eyes he saw that theywere brimming over.

  "Oh, if they would only weep like that for me," he thought; and directlyafter, "no, I should be very sorry."

  "I--I did not know he was so bad," she faltered.

  "But it is mending all right. Yes. Hold still, old fellow; I won'thurt you much. That's right. Oh, yes, he's mending capitally; but itwould be better if the hair were cut away a little from the wound.Knife? No. I suppose you could fetch me a pair of scissors?"

  "I have a pair," cried Gertrude eagerly, producing a tiny embroiderypair from a case.

  "Capital! but, I say, my great ugly thumb and finger would not go intothose holes. Could you--? No, it would be such a nasty task."

  "I should not consider it a nasty task to do anything to help my poordog," she said quickly.

  "Then you shall do it. There, cut boldly between my fingers. Don't beafraid. That nasty, matted hair frets the wound. That's right;capital! Now, there again, and there. Hurt, Bruno? Never mind, oldchap; don't flinch. That will do."

  They were busy together, kneeling on either side of the dog for quitefive minutes, before they raised their eyes and looked at each other,their faces only separated by a dog's width, and Gertrude's eyes fellbeneath the admiring glance which seemed to thrill her.

  "I am very grateful to you for what you have done."

  "Don't name it. I am very glad."

  "But will he get well?"

  "Oh, yes. It will take some little time, of course, but animals have awonderful faculty for healing up. There, old chap, your case isattended to. No fees and no bills, thank you. Do you know, I believehe understands all about it. Hardly flinched, and I know I must havehurt him a good deal."

  "He has always been so patient while I bathed his head, and bandaged thecut."

  "Yes; he knows. There, old chap, you'll know me again, eh?"

  Bruno licked the hand which took hold of his muzzle, and whined softly.

  "See that, Miss Bellwood?"

  "Yes, it is his way of thanking you for what you have done."

  "No, I think not. It is his way of showing you that I am not animpostor. No dog would make such friends with a rogue."

  "Are we not giving him the credit of having too much sense?" saidGertrude archly.

  "Ah, well, perhaps so; but I thank him for giving me this interview. Ithought I should like a look round the old place--that is why I camedown; and--yes, I can't be a sham--I did hope that I might catch aglimpse of you. Good-bye."

  He held out his hand again.

  "Good-bye," she said slowly and sadly; and she once more timidly placedher hand in his, when he raised it to his lips.

  The next moment he was gone, and Bruno uttered a growl, picked up thestick once more, and carried it to the house, Gertrude walkingmeditatively before him, and asking herself whether she had done rightin talking as she had with such a comparative stranger. Her meditationswere broken by the voice of Mrs Denton.

  "Why, Bruno, good dog, where did you get that stick? Broken too. I'vemissed that for weeks; it's the one poor dear master used to use when hewalked round the garden. Oh, dear, and broken, too. How it does seemto bring him back."

  But Bruno refused to part with the broken stick, and carried it with himinto the stable, where he laid it in the straw beneath his muzzle.

  Someone felt worse and yet better for that walk down the garden.

  Perhaps more than one.