Chapter VI: Book I: Life Histories (3)

Mystery strange of brutish soul!
Beamed from out those doggy features;
More of sympathy for man
Than his nearer fellow creatures.

Lived throughout that grizzly frame
Iron purpose past our guiding;
Wisdom hoar that mocked our search
Deep in those weird eyes abiding.

Where is Bandy’s spirit fled?
What forbids this hope to cherish,
Wit so keen, and love so strong,
Are not of the things that perish?

X. A. M.

THE SOLDIER OF FORTUNE

“_Here’s fine sport, my masters!_”

Jack, who belonged to the old breed of fighting dogs, had all the characteristics that marked the better class of those worthies of a bygone age who were known as soldiers of fortune. Brave as a lion, he would fight to the death, but he was gentle and courteous to those in distress, loyal to his friends, and an open enemy. It was strange, indeed, that with his early training he had not learned to love fighting for fighting’s sake. But as he never began an attack, and never lost his head even in the most heated moments of a deadly struggle, he had the advantage of a soldier trained to warfare over less well disciplined opponents. Jack’s enormous strength of jaw and his size--for in fighting condition he was said to weigh fifty pounds--made him a formidable antagonist. But in spite of this, and of his truly ferocious appearance, he was gentle and affectionate in disposition, was on the most friendly terms with every one in the house, where he found a home after the stormy days of his youth, and was never known to start a quarrel with one of his own kind.

His meeting with his future mistress was sufficiently dramatic. This lady was calling at a vicarage in the neighbourhood of her home when, as she reached the front door, she found herself confronted by a remarkable looking object. Seated on the doorstep was a large, grey, brindled bull terrier, with the square massive head of the bulldog, and in general appearance resembling the pictures of Crib and Rosa and other old-world celebrities. To add to his attractions he had lost half an ear on one side of his face and half of his upper lip on the other. His head was covered with wounds not yet healed, and his neck had been severely mauled recently.

The visitor stood still in astonishment, while she examined him attentively, and Jack on his side kept his place in the middle of the doorway, and returned her gaze, while he slowly turned his head from side to side. Happily the lady does not know what fear is where a dog is concerned, and as soon as she had recovered from her surprise she spoke to the dog in a gentle voice. Jack then rose and came towards her, and after walking round her and sniffing at her skirt he looked up at her and allowed her to pat his head. From that moment his friendship with the stranger began, though there were still some vicissitudes of his strange career to be gone through before he came into her possession.

JACK]

Inside the house the visitor heard something of his story. Jack had been brought home by the son of the house, who was an undergraduate of Cambridge, and he had become possessed of him under peculiar and, we may hope, unusual circumstances. A fellow undergraduate had purchased Jack from a man who had brought him down from the Staffordshire Potteries, where the bull terrier had a great reputation as a fighting dog. Many were the tales told of his prowess in deadly combats, in which he had come off with the honours of war. These brutal exhibitions though contrary to law are not yet done away with in mining districts, and that other parts of the country are not free from suspicion in this respect Jack’s history will make clear. It would be well if the authorities showed more vigour in putting them down, as they are a disgrace to our boasted humanity and refinement of feeling. It is hard to see how the gruesome sight of dogs deliberately set to maul one another until the life of one is forfeited, lacks any of the brutal elements that have made cock fighting happily a thing of the past.

Unfortunately for poor Jack the hands into which he fell at Cambridge were no more humane than those of his former owners. At a “wine” his new master produced him, and challenged his friends present to find a dog that could “lick” him. Another wild spirit took up the challenge, declaring that his Newfoundland, an unusually large and strong specimen of his breed, could easily give the Staffordshire hero a licking. Bets were made freely, and the furniture was cleared, while the Newfoundland was being fetched. Then the wretched animals were set on, and for a time their struggle was watched by the inhuman men. But the fight grew so savage that the infuriated animals became a danger to the onlookers, and the party put the crowning point to their cowardly proceeding by clearing out of the room and shutting the door on the combatants. It was not till the sounds of fighting had died away that they ventured back to see what had happened to their victims. The Newfoundland had been killed, and Jack was lying half dead beside him.

Fear of the consequences of their exploit to themselves now entered the young men’s minds. If Jack was kept, the Dons would be sure to hear of the affair, and as one of the party was going down the following day, he was persuaded to take the dog with him. The suffering creature was consequently put into a basket and carried down to the Dorset Vicarage, where he was by no means a welcome guest. The Vicar not unnaturally thought that he was not a reputable addition to his household. But the dog could not be turned away till his wounds were healed, and Jack found a home in an outhouse, from which he had made his escape on the day of my friend’s visit.

The lady had no sooner heard his history than she expressed a wish to have him. But the Vicar refused point blank to allow him to go to her, and his son told her privately that he meant to keep the dog. On returning from a short absence from home the would-be owner made inquiries about Jack, and what she then heard determined her to make every effort to get possession of the dog, and thus put an end to his fighting career.

Jack’s presence at the Vicarage had not been pleasing to an old retriever, who was used to ruling supreme on the premises. Before long a fight ensued between the rivals, and the Vicar, hearing sounds of warfare, rushed out to find matters looking serious. Seizing the retriever by the tail he called loudly for assistance. This brought Jack’s master on the scene, and with considerable difficulty he succeeded in getting his dog by the collar and choking him off. From the fiat of banishment that now went forth there was no appeal, the somewhat undignified part played by the master of the house perhaps adding fuel to his wrath. Anyway, Jack was made over to a travelling pedlar, who passed through the village the following day.

This man had a large white bull terrier of his own, which, he said, he kept to guard his cart. With the same brutal instincts displayed by Jack’s former owners the pedlar determined on a fight between the dogs. For the benefit of himself and his friends the entertainment was brought off in a back yard. So desperately did the dogs fight that to save their lives the men at last separated them. Too late, however, to save the life of the white dog, which died of its wounds, while Jack was in a dreadful condition, and it seemed doubtful if he would recover.

My friend found out where the dog was, and sent the Vicar’s son, who had brought him into the neighbourhood, to buy the poor suffering creature for her. The embassy was successful, and Jack, the most miserable remnant of a dog that ever was seen, and with his neck in such a state that it was months before he could bear a collar, came to the home that sheltered him for the remainder of his days.

Jack’s adventures were by no means over, but he was too intelligent ever to enter on a struggle lightly. He knew what fighting meant, and did not run into danger needlessly. What to others was a mere incident in their quarrelsome lives was for him a matter in which the science of war and the risks of battle had to be considered. These fighting dogs are trained never to let go of their opponent till they have a firm grip of the head, and then, from the working of their terrible jaws, there is little hope for the victim. The dog that fastens on to the leg of his opponent is not accounted much good, as, though he may break the bone and cause terrible agony, he is not likely to succeed in killing the other. The brutalising effect of such contests as those in which Jack had taken part seems to be shown more clearly on the men who organise them than on the animals they train. This is, at least, as it should be, for it is man’s superior intelligence that is perverted to provide the so-called sport, while the dogs are but the puppets made to dance at his orders.

Jack’s appearance always remained sufficiently alarming to terrify weak nerves. In his new home he used to spend long hours lying on a mat in the front hall, and always did so of an afternoon unless he was out driving with his mistress. He was in his usual place when two ladies arrived to tea. One of the visitors stepped out of the carriage to ring the bell, and this, being almost over Jack’s head, awoke him with a start. The dog sprang to his feet with a growl, and his unexpected appearance struck such terror into the heart of the visitor that she fled back to the brougham for protection. Her companion, an older lady, just then in the act of stepping out, received her friend’s onslaught with no hope of withstanding the shock. She was knocked backwards on to the floor of the brougham, where the fugitive tumbled on the top of her, Jack meanwhile watching the unwonted proceedings with interest, but without showing the least sign of wishing to join in the fray. When the visitors had been safely escorted into the house, and the elder lady understood the cause of her friend’s fright, her anger was great. How could any one suppose that a dangerous dog would be allowed to lie at the front door? she inquired. But the other who could not be persuaded to allow Jack to come near her, or indeed to be in the same room with her, asserted that his look was enough to frighten any one, and if he came near her _she should do the same again_.

But Jack behaved with exemplary courtesy to all visitors to the house, and to his mistress he was devotedly attached. This love he only extended in anything like the same degree to one person, and that was his mistress’s mother. He always had a special welcome for her when she made one of her occasional visits to the house, and constituted himself her guardian, seeming to understand perfectly that as she had nearly lost her sight she needed protection. Whenever his mistress was out, if Jack did not go with her, he would go straight up to her mother’s room and sit by her side, and no one could induce him to move till his mistress returned. His affection and care were much appreciated, and Jack and the elder lady became the firmest friends. She was in the habit of taking a little stroll in the afternoon along the carriage drive, and with Jack for a companion she said she felt perfectly safe. He always walked close by her side, and to give her warning when any one was coming, he would look up at her and give a little friendly growl.

To his mistress he was the most vigilant of guards, and his encounter with a tramp was talked of far and wide in the county. For some time the cottagers in the neighbourhood had been troubled by the visits of this man. It was his custom to watch the men off to work, and then go and bully the women until he got money from them. One spring morning, when Jack’s owner was sitting in the drawing room with the window open, a shadow cast across her book caused her to look up. She saw a short, sturdily built man of the dirtiest possible appearance in the act of stepping into the room from the verandah. She realised at once that it was the tramp, from the descriptions she had heard from some of his former victims. She knew, too, that he must have watched the house and chosen his time as usual when the men were absent. Probably from the shelter of the shrubbery he had seen the two gentlemen of the household drive away in the dog-cart, and had waited until the outside men had gone home for their dinner. The only man left about the place was the butler, who was on the far side of the house.

Starting from her chair the lady asked the intruder what he wanted. “I want some money,” was the surly response. “I have nothing for you;” and as she spoke she made a step towards the bell. But the man was too quick for her. Flinging himself before her, and thus cutting her off from the power of summoning assistance, he said threateningly, “I means to have some before I goes.” His startled victim looked round hastily for a weapon of defence, as her doubtful visitor held a short thick stick in his hand, which he looked quite capable of making use of to achieve his object. Her eye fell upon Jack asleep under a chair in the back room. Clapping her hands to rouse him, she called, “Go for him, Jack,” and the dog sprang to his feet, and with a savage growl made straight for the man. In an instant the intruder was back on the verandah, striking blindly at the dog with his stick. Jack was not to be caught, and cleverly dodging the blows aimed at him he danced round with every bristle up and his eyes glaring.

The man backed away along the verandah shouting at the top of his voice, Jack after him, and his mistress following and encouraging the dog. In this way the procession worked round the house till it reached the garden gate. Here the man turned and tried to bolt through, but Jack was on the watch, and instantly making his spring, he fastened on to the man’s thigh and hung like grim death. Never was there a more abject picture of fright than the tramp presented. He roared with pain and fear combined, and throwing away his stick made frantic efforts to get his hand into his pocket. Seeing the movement, and fearing that a knife might be brought into play against Jack, his mistress caught the dog by the collar, exclaiming as she did so, “I will try and get him off, if you will be quiet.” This was no easy matter, for Jack’s blood was up, but luckily there was a wrench, and with a piece of dirty, rotten cloth in his mouth the dog fell back. It was the work of a moment for the tramp to bang to the gate between him and his assailant. By the time the household came hurrying up to see what was the matter the man was making best pace down the drive, and was never heard of in that neighbourhood again.

It is to be noted that even in his angriest moments Jack never resented his mistress’s efforts to check him. Neither now nor at any period of his life, however great the provocation, did he turn upon her. As he understood and was ready to respond to her call for aid, so he respected her restraining hand, even though, like an angry child, he could not give in to the restraint at once.

On one evening in the week my friend was in the habit of walking across the fields to the village in order to play the organ for the choir practice. Jack always accompanied her, and as long as it was light he followed close at her heels. Directly it grew dark Jack invariably changed his position and trotted along in front of her. He then gave notice of any one approaching by a warning growl, and if the passer by ceded the path to him all went well, and he took no further notice. If, however, the intruder kept to the path, things were not made so pleasant for him. One very dark night Jack’s mistress heard the warning growl, and then a quick rush, and a man’s voice raised in alarm. Hurrying to the rescue she saw, as well as the darkness would allow, what appeared to be a man on the ground and a dog on the top of him. Seizing Jack by the collar she found it an unexpectedly easy task to pull him off, as whatever it was that he had firmly in his teeth came away with him. The man struggled to his feet and fled for dear life, and it then turned out that Jack’s trophy was a large bundle done up in a red handkerchief, and with a stick through it, which the man had evidently been carrying over his shoulder. Holding Jack firmly his mistress called to the fugitive that he might come back safely and secure his property. But he would have none of it, and continued his headlong course, while Jack and his mistress reached home without further adventure.

Another of Jack’s exploits was in saving her from the attack of a savage cow. A farmer in the parish had put a cow and her calf in a field, through which ran a path that led into the village. Through this field the Vicar’s daughter had come one afternoon to see Jack’s owner, bringing her old retriever with her. On her return she was charged by the cow, and in her efforts to escape fell into a deep ditch. The retriever meantime flew at the cow, but finding himself hard pressed, jumped after his mistress, who in her fright thought her infuriated assailant had come after her. She and her dog eventually managed to scramble through the hedge into the next field, and found their way home. Knowing that the lady on whom she had been calling would be coming down later to the practice, she sent a note to warn her of the danger. But the messenger wisely preferred to go the longer way by the road, and he thus missed the lady, who with Jack had already started across the fields. On getting over a stile she found herself face to face with a large half-bred Hereford cow, which without the slightest warning rushed straight at her. Springing to one side she left the way open to Jack, who proved quite equal to the encounter. Jumping at the cow’s head, he caught her firmly by the nose and there hung. It was now the cow’s turn to try and get away, and she rushed round and round in a circle, swinging the clinging dog completely off the ground. All her efforts being of no avail, she sank at last on her knees and laid groaning on the ground. Just then the farmer appeared, and with his help the cow was released, and Jack was then hurried away. The cow recovered from her fright, and was none the worse for her adventure, but she was promptly removed to a quieter grazing ground.

One of Jack’s pleasures was to accompany his mistress in her drives. He always ran under the dog-cart, and if pursued by other dogs would never take any notice of them for fear of losing the cart. His mistress therefore always drove on when any assailant appeared, as she knew Jack would not leave her. This proof of attachment sometimes cost him dear, as his enemies were wont to think that his flying figure meant fear, and that they could bully him as they pleased. This was specially the case with a large collie who lived in a neighbouring town to which Jack and his mistress often went. The collie had a habit of rushing after any dog following a carriage, and his great speed generally allowing him to come up with them, he would then roll them over and, after shaking and biting them, run back to his master as if sure of approval. This was indeed more or less true, for the master, whenever he was remonstrated with on the behaviour of his dog, always replied that he meant no harm and only acted in play.

After a time the owner of the collie set up a second, a younger dog, who, of course, speedily followed in the steps of his elder. The two dogs once rushed on Jack, as he was passing in his usual place under the cart, and gave him a severe mauling. After that his mistress always took him up when they were likely to meet his enemies, and one day when she went into a shop she fastened a piece of string to Jack’s collar and led him. She had just reached the shop door when she saw the older collie rushing towards them. Turning in hastily to avoid him, Jack lay down quietly beside her chair, but the collie rushed in and fell upon Jack, and with a snap of the string from the latter’s collar, the two were fighting in the street. For the first few minutes the collie seemed to have the best of it, for he pinned Jack and was tearing at him with all his strength. The lady and gentleman, in whose charge the collie was at the time, seemed rather amused at the adventure, and did not offer to interfere, while Jack’s mistress, knowing that his turn would come, and thinking the attacker deserved a lesson, remained passive.

Presently the collie, who thought he was going to have things entirely his own way, recklessly put his foreleg across Jack’s open mouth. The powerful jaws closed on it, and the collie, releasing his hold of Jack’s throat, howled loudly, while he tried in vain to pull his leg away.

Jack, however, was no leg fighter, and struggling to his feet he released the leg, and, catching the collie by the side of the head, turned him over on his back. The collie’s guardians now wished to interfere, the lady calling out to her companion to save her dog. The man raised his walking stick and was in the act of bringing it down on Jack’s head, when the latter’s mistress interfered. Fortunately she had brought a walking stick in her hand when she left the dog-cart, and striking up the threatening stick of the other, she exclaimed, “He shall not be touched.” But seeing that the collie would soon suffer the extreme penalty of the law unless rescued, she seized Jack by the collar and told him to leave go. His mistress always says she can never forget the look of reproach her dog turned on her. Lowering his bristles and wagging his tail Jack fixed his eyes on her face with an expression that was almost human. His look said as plainly as words, “What a shame to baulk me of my vengeance, now that I have at last got my chance.” Nevertheless, he let go his hold, and the tattered collie was led away. After this the collie was always put on a lead when he was taken into the town. Jack once met him when he was being led, and the way in which he showed that a dog who was not free was not worthy of his notice was very funny. Jack raised his head and stared at the collie for a moment and then passed on with contempt written in his bearing, while the other, with lowered tail and scared look, showed relief at getting by unnoticed.

At home Jack had a rival in the form of a black, curly coated retriever, named Bob. This dog showed his jealousy by falling on Jack whenever he found an opportunity, and their contests were endless. Bob, however, was not a fighting dog, and as soon as the struggle reached a certain point he stopped. Jack, who looked on Bob as an amateur unworthy of his serious attention, always stopped as soon as the other did, and never offered to renew the fight. The two dogs often went with their mistress when she was riding, as Bob had no time for quarrelling when he was following the horse. But when the rider was opening a gate on a river bank, in order to cross by the ford, the gate swung back on Jack, who always followed close at her horse’s heels. While he was struggling to force his way through, Bob took the opportunity of falling on him. Their mistress jumped from her horse to separate them, and as they were now fighting on the top of the bank she rolled them over into the water. With a great splash they disappeared, but Bob, who was first to come to the surface, was none the worse for his ducking, and swimming a little way down stream soon found an easy landing place. Jack was not so fortunate, for being a much heavier dog he had a deeper fall, and when he came up he was covered with mud. He seemed, too, slightly dazed, and instead of following Bob’s example he tried to scramble up the high bank close to him. Time after time he fell back, and his mistress, fearing lest he should be drowned, lay down on the bank and, reaching over, tried to get hold of his collar.

Bob, meantime, sat and watched the proceeding, and seeing his mistress’s ineffectual efforts he jumped into the water and, seizing Jack by the collar, towed him down to the landing place and then, scrambling up backwards, tried to drag Jack after him. His owner rushed to his assistance, and by their united efforts Jack was pulled up, and in a few minutes the two dogs were trotting on amicably together.

Their last encounter was a bad one for their mistress. It was a hot summer day, and she had taken a book into the garden and settled herself under the shade of a tree with Jack by her side. After a time she fell asleep, and was awakened by a weight on her chest that threatened to suffocate her. A loud worrying saluted her ears, and to her horror she found that Bob and Jack were having a scrimmage on the top of her prostrate form. Struggling hard to release herself, she at last slipped from under them, and the dogs continued their combat on the ground. It was one of the worst fights they ever had, for Jack meant business, so that Bob was glad at last to be carried away. After this Bob found another home, but he neither forgot nor forgave his old enemy and was always ready for a row whenever they met.

One of Jack’s great amusements was boxing with his mistress’s brother. The latter, putting on his boxing gloves, used to go down on his knee, while Jack stood opposite him, all attention for the signal to begin. Jack’s aim was to get a hold of one of the gloves, while his opponent tried to keep him out by bowling him over. Jack was often rolled head over heels by a well directed blow, but in the end he always got a grip of one of the gloves, which he was allowed to carry off in triumph. Though he used to get wildly excited over the performance he was not savage. He wagged his tail the whole time as a sign of good fellowship, and quite understood that it was only a pastime, and not to be considered as one of the serious duties of life.

In his older days Jack was very fond of lying in front of the kitchen fire. This place he shared with a large white cat named Muff, and very funny it was to see the two strangely assorted creatures lying curled up side by side. Nothing would move Jack from his place. If the fire became too hot he would stay till his coat was actually scorched, only showing his discomfort by an angry growl. This always upset Muff, who on hearing the noise would fall on him, and was of course punished for his insolence, till the cook, whose pet he was, rushed to his rescue. In one of these scrimmages Muff got such a sharp squeeze from his powerful enemy that in terror he made a spring at a high window, trying to escape. Instead, however, of getting through he came against the blind which was partly down. To this he clung, and his weight being twelve pounds brought down the roller, which with the cat still clinging to his perch, fell with a clatter into the midst of plates and dishes, making a noise that raised the whole household. Jack and Muff being equally startled with the unexpected result of their conflict, fled for their lives, leaving the cook a sadder and a wiser woman.

It was in front of the kitchen fire that Jack’s adventurous life came to an end. We may fancy what dreams of past exploits came to soothe the days of failing powers, when the worn-out warrior knew that his work was done. With the scars of many conflicts and the respectful sympathy of friend and foe alike, Jack found his last resting-place in the shrubbery of his home, facing the door near which he used to lie.

THE ARTISTIC THIEF

“_They also know
And reason not contemptibly._”

Jet, in appearance and character, had a distinction all his own. That the latter was due to a subtle cleverness which frequently led him from the paths of virtue did not prevent his being in private life a dog of high moral character. He never condescended to petty thieving, but when an occasion presented itself that he felt was worthy of his powers, Jet threw himself into it with all the enthusiasm of a true artist.

He was a King Charles spaniel of a type now unknown, and was believed to be the last specimen of his kind. He was coal black from tip to tail, and had lovely blue-black eyes that completed the duskiness of his appearance. His head was not so short as the present fashion demands, though it was shorter than those painted by Landseer, or portrayed by the eighteenth-century artists.

As a puppy he was too leggy for perfect beauty, but there was no evidence of this when he thickened out, and had grown a silky coat that swept the ground, from the tip of his undocked feathery tail to his ears. The latter were of extraordinary length, and would tie easily over his mouth--in a bow his family declared, but certainly in a love knot. When he was six months old, he came from his home in the Isle of Wight into the possession of one of the family, with some member of which he spent the remainder of his life.

While his master, who was a curate, was still living at home, Jet started on the career that made him famous. Belonging to another member of the family was a Blenheim puppy, of the kind now known as a Ruby. Both the mites were fond of Pearl biscuits, and these were bought for them in small quantities, as they did not come within the scope of the lawful housekeeping arrangements. The little fat Peter was more than once found busily engaged on the floor with a bag of his favourite dainties, though this had been put well out of his reach, and his size and shape forbade the idea of his having fetched it down. But one day when the dining-room door was standing half open, Jet was seen to jump on to the sideboard, shake and break the bag of biscuits, and, after securing what he wanted for himself, push the lightened bag down to the waiting Peter. At the first movement of the door Jet flew from his perch, and by the time the visitor was in the room he was sitting in a corner looking a model of innocence and ignorance. Peter, meanwhile, ate hard, while there was still time, but _his_ lapses from virtue were explained.

Before long Jet accompanied his master to a Midland town, where the latter had rooms over a grocer’s shop. He speedily made himself at home there, and was a favourite with every one in the house. A trick of his puppyhood, not yet got rid of, was the love of tearing books to pieces. Many times Jet was corrected for this crime, but when a book lying on his master’s writing-table disappeared bodily he was not even suspected. Not a sign of torn leaves pointed to his indulgence in a forbidden pleasure. It was not till his master left the rooms a year later that Jet’s delinquency was made clear. When a heavy set of bookshelves was moved from its place, there, pushed carefully from view behind them, lay the remains of the missing book. Every leaf was torn, and it was evident that during some prolonged absence from home of his owner Jet had had a long day’s enjoyment with them. That he had managed to clear away every sign of the fragments said not a little for the intelligence he had brought to bear on the matter. But this artistic finish to his work was what made Jet a leader in his line.

There was trouble for the mistress of the house soon after Jet took up his abode there. In her shop there were various trays of eggs, each with its appropriate label. Some were marked “Real Fresh Laid,” and only those in the mistress’s confidence knew that another place must be sought for eggs that actually deserved this title. But from the latter store one or more eggs disappeared daily. No one but those in the house could go with such unfailing certainty to the choicest store. Many were the conjectures, and suspicion at last fell on a maid-servant. But the mistress one day felt an obstruction under a door mat, and lifting the mat she saw a collection of egg-shells that gave her the clew to the thief. Jet was undoubtedly the culprit, though how he had managed to get at the contents of the egg-tray remained a mystery. The maid’s character was cleared of suspicion, though it was pointed out to her with some force that she had only her own slovenly habits of cleaning to thank for having been suspected.

Jet at this time was a very independent little dog, as he was left to his own devices while his master was engaged in the parish. Being of a friendly disposition, he made many acquaintances among his fellows, his chosen friend being a large spaniel, who lived in the yard of Jet’s home. This spaniel was fastened up during the day to act as guardian to the shop, and it was not till business hours were over that he was let loose and allowed to rove at liberty. One day Jet had what might well have been a serious encounter in the streets with a large mongrel, and it was only the little thing’s nimbleness that saved him from the chastisement the other was anxious to inflict. Jet’s master was absent from home, so the dusky mite took refuge with his friend the spaniel, whose house he refused to leave for the remainder of the day.

What was it that passed between the two dogs in those long hours they spent together, before the time of relief for the larger one came? It is a case in which we feel we would give much to be able to pierce the unknown nature of their communications. As soon as the spaniel was unfastened, he and Jet were seen to start off at once on an expedition that looked like business. There was no aimless roving or barking. Jet led the way, and his big friend followed. After some search they came upon the mongrel, and without the slightest sign of hesitation the spaniel made for him and proceeded to business. Jet meantime sat down quietly on the pavement and awaited developments. The spaniel’s size was in his favour, and he managed in the end to drive the enemy off the field. As soon as this was done Jet joined him, and the two trotted quietly back together. That the story of the mornings adventures had by some means been conveyed by Jet to his friend, it seems scarcely possible to doubt in view of their subsequent action.

Jet’s next change of residence took him back to the family house in town, where he met his future mistress. He attached himself to her from the first, and always remained devoted to her. Yet with this one exception Jet’s greatest friend throughout life was himself. He showed his capacity for affection in the strong and deep attachment he displayed to his mistress, but outside this he was a self-centred little epicurean, to whom personal comfort and the good things of this life were of paramount importance. He showed a gentlemanly regard for all members of the family, and was very popular with the servants. The latter always spoke of him as “Little Master Jet,” for the custom begun in jest soon grew into a habit. “Shall I take out little Master Jet?” or “What will little Master Jet have for dinner?” came to be regarded as a matter of course in speaking of him.

When the time came for Jet’s lawful owner to leave home, there was trouble with the determined little spaniel. He clung resolutely to the mistress he had chosen, and no bribes would draw him from her side. Even his favourite dainties had no charm for him, when their enjoyment meant leaving the shelter he had taken up. Finally the schoolroom party, of which Jet’s friend was the eldest member, clubbed their money together and bought him at his original price. The rules in the house were stringent about pets, but Jet, finding the hours long when his mistress was at lessons, refused to be bound by them. He even made good his place in the drawing room, sacred to the elders. Here he one day found his owner’s grandmother in tears on her couch. Springing up to her, he expressed his sympathy with rose-leaf tongue and silky paws in such dainty fashion that from that moment his position was assured.

No dog ever had a stronger sense of fun than Jet. He dearly loved a practical joke, and showed the nicest discrimination in the choice of the pranks he played on the different members of the household. He was a capital jumper, and very quick in his movements, and no sooner did he see one of his older friends lean forward in his chair in the excitement of conversation than a rapid spring would carry him into the space behind the speaker. The instant he had accomplished this he would to all appearance fall into such a ridiculously sound slumber that he was deaf to all blandishments addressed to him. But no sooner had he been lifted from his perch than he was as wide awake as ever, and evidently well pleased with the successful carrying out of his coup.

The trick for the younger ones was of a different nature, as it was no fun to usurp a place that was instantly ceded to him. A tiny scratch at the door would demand admission to the schoolroom, but when it was thrown open for him, there was no Jet to be seen. A few minutes later the same signal would be made, and always with the same result. His dusky colour and his rapid movements aided him in his flight, but if his victim waited inside the door to catch him, not a sound would be heard until she had resumed her seat. At last Jet’s excitement could no longer be controlled, and a bark from his place of concealment would betray his presence. These tricks were entirely of his own devising, but his young owners soon taught him the usual accomplishments, and he would beg or trust to order. But he was sometimes called upon for his performances when he did not feel inclined for them. Then no power on earth would move him. It was no uncommon sight for one of his young instructors to be on her knees, scolding and propping Jet up, in the vain hope of getting a regulation beg from him. Time after time Jet would fall a little backboneless heap on the floor, really a much better piece of acting than the stereotyped trick he was asked for.

His walks on the chain, with his mistress in town, were a model of propriety. But with the youngest member of the schoolroom party, whenever the honour of his guardianship was confided to her, the result was very different. Then mad rushes at fat-legged children, and shrill barks at nervous passers-by came to heighten the pleasures of the walk, and it is to be feared that they were not altogether displeasing to his small guardian. It was only play, and the young things at either end of the lead had not yet learned to take life seriously.

It was on the occasion of his chosen mistress’s first dance that Jet again showed his distinguishing talent. He always loved bright colours and evening dress, and when he saw his mistress in all the glories of her first ball dress, he showed his admiration in the most flattering way by walking backwards in front of her with little yelps of approval. When she left him his owner kissed her thanks to the discerning mite, and whispered to him not to be dull, but to enjoy himself. This injunction Jet proceeded to carry out.

He was left in the dining room, where a meal had been put on the table for the master of the house, who was not expected home till a late hour. When he arrived he received a warm welcome from Jet. Everything looked cosy and inviting to a tired traveller, but it seemed the parlourmaid had been forgetful. Butter and cheese had both been forgotten. True, both cheese and butter dish were on the table, but neither of them had been used. Thinking it too late to disturb the household, the meal was made without them. The next morning the mistress of the house, having been told of the oversight, mentioned it to the parlourmaid. But the maid indignantly denied the imputation. She was certain she had put both butter and cheese ready for the master.

Could Jet know anything about it? It seemed improbable, for neither the meat nor any of the other dishes on the table had been touched, and these would have been much more to his taste than the missing things. There was not the faintest paw-mark to suggest his having been on the table, and the two empty dishes seemed to say that nothing had been laid on them. Later it was discovered that the cheese was missing from the larder, but nothing explained the mystery until the remains of the nibbled cheese were discovered in a rounded recess in the dining room where the sideboard stood. It had been so cleverly concealed that it only came to light when the sideboard itself was moved. With its discovery Jet’s crime was made clear. He had evidently jumped on the table to investigate, and with his usual discrimination refraining from touching what would have proclaimed his guilt at once, he had eaten the butter and cleaned the dish so that no trace of his work was left. Then he must have pushed the cheese from the table, taking care to leave no sign behind, and after finishing his meal on it, put it cleverly out of sight.

The hold Jet had by this time secured in the family affection was proved by the fact that his mistress’s parting injunction to enjoy himself was held to be the cause of the crime, and it was decreed that the delinquent was not to be punished.

It may be easily believed that the kitchen was no place for such a fascinating dog. Visits to the cook were found to injure his digestion, and they were sternly forbidden. The study, however, was on the ground floor, for the house being built on a hill, the windows of the back room opened on to the large garden common to all the houses of the long row. A visit to the study often gave Jet his opportunity. While his own mistress was in the schoolroom Jet would go to the study with her mother. One morning, having omitted to close the door after her, his temporary guardian found that Jet had left her. Calling to him she saw a little dusky form creep noiselessly from the front kitchen, pass the open door without a sound, and make his way upstairs. A second later an excited and noisy little dog came clattering downstairs, and rushed into the study with every manifestation of joy at having found out where she was. The cleverness of his acting here again saved him from punishment for disobedience to orders.

Jet, as I have said, was fed with great care, and such unwholesome dainties as bones of birds were forbidden him. But it was often noticed that when he came in from a run in the big gardens he had been eating something. One day he was so uncomfortable that, dropping concealment, he came to his mistress for assistance. A fine bone had worked its way into his upper lip. His mistress was puzzled as to how it came there, but concluded that some cat must have taken it into the gardens. A few days later the croquet things were wanted, and as soon as the box was opened, Jet’s supply of bones stood revealed. There in a corner was a little hoard of grouse bones.

JET]

The box stood in the small space between the top of the kitchen stairs and the door that led into the gardens. The bones must have been taken from the plates as they were brought from the dining room, and the half-open box that stood invitingly near offered a ready place of concealment. In Jet’s many unattended excursions into the gardens he must have visited his store and taken some out for present enjoyment, but never by a sniff as he passed at any other time did he betray their presence. Doubtless he heard with complacency, touched by grief at the loss of his store, the admiration expressed for his talents and his self-restraint.

Only once was Jet surprised in the act. An open larder door and an eager attentive collie, gazing with longing at an upper shelf, surprised him out of his usual attention to details. The larder floor was sunk, and from the top of the unguarded steps it was the work of a moment for Jet to jump on to the opposite shelf. Here he proceeded to lift the wire covering from a couple of ducks, and not having made good his bearings previously, he was discovered busily employed by the kitchen authority, when she returned to close the door against intruders.

At this time it was a much disputed point between the respective owners of the collie and the spaniel as to which dog was the culprit in the matter of stealing toast from the breakfast table before any one was down in the morning. Jet’s exploit in the larder was held to settle the question, and he was gently cuffed and sternly spoken to on the subject. But Jet was not of those who suffer wrong patiently. The following morning an imperious little barking creature made his appearance in the kitchen and induced one of the maids to go with him to the dining room. Here the collie was found helping himself to toast, and it would be hard to say whether Jet or his mistress was the better pleased at the discovery.

Jet’s appearance gained him a great deal of attention, and added to his self-importance. His way of receiving any expression of admiration from strangers was quite his own. A blank, unseeing stare of haughty indifference came over him, and just the tip of a pink tongue suggested intentional rudeness if the attentions were too pressing. A quick look of intelligence at his own people that passed like a flash claimed their sympathy in his performance, and in this Jet was rarely disappointed.

As a young and very healthy dog, Jet had very keen senses and a good memory. His knowledge of locality was above the common, and though he travelled much he was never lost, either in town or country. If his mistress lost him, she knew it was wilful behaviour on his part, and that when the welcome call was heard at the door, a repentant mass of silky black hair would soon be asking pardon at her feet. Once, indeed, his owner thought he had strayed. She had taken him with her to stay at a friend’s house in a strange part of London, and they arrived at their destination in a thick fog. Almost immediately Jet demanded to be let out, and so insistent was he that at last the front door was opened for him. Straight out into the fog he rushed, and as time passed without his return his mistress gave him up for lost. But Jet, doubtless, had been satisfying a natural curiosity as to the nature of his surroundings, and in due course a calm little dog came back, as if thick fog and strange houses were a matter of no moment to him.

In the country the pleasures of a walk had nothing sedate about them. Jet hunted the country round, in spite of the drawbacks attached to his long love-locks. Often, when his short nose had to trace the scent, and the pace was hot, his beautiful ears would get under his front paws. But a silent somersault was all that happened; he paid no attention to the pain, in the eagerness of his pursuit. The larger dogs were always ready to follow up Jet’s discoveries, and though when they looked over stones or banks the tiny leader had to jump on the obstacles, he was always to the front.

Jet was always ready to lead his followers into mischief. If he did not fight himself, he liked seeing others fight, and was never tired of having the sheep chased in the park at his suggestion. A young collie was a great ally of his, and Jet was once watched as he collected a brood of young chickens and set the other dog to drive them into the river. At this point his owner intervened, and Jet was hurried away from the Highland farm where his exploit had taken place. Years afterwards, when Jet’s happy little life was ended, his mistress was again in the neighbourhood, and heard from the lips of a stranger staying at the farm the history of the little black dog’s mischievous performance, which on a former visit he had watched from a window.

When Jet and his mistress first went to live in the country, the latter began to keep chickens. These lived in a stable, and a small hole cut in the door let them in to nests and safety. There were great cacklings in the mornings, which raised their owner’s hopes high, but it was seldom indeed that an egg was found. Jet’s mistress, who was new to country occupations and was keenly interested in the success of her chickens, studied books on the subject, and watched her unsatisfactory hens with care. There was never a sign of a broken egg-shell about the place, and she therefore scouted the idea with scorn that Jet should be interested in the matter. One day, however, she called Jet to her when she had in her hand an egg that was to be cut up for her canaries. Jet came running up in answer to the call, but no sooner did he see the egg than he fell on his back, with waving paws in the air, a self-convicted criminal.