The Island of Gold: A Sailor's Yarn, Page 3

Bob's finished thejob to his own satisfaction."

  Well, discretion is the better part of valour, and after grumbling outan apology, the postman was allowed to sneak off with a whole skin.

  Then Ransey kissed Bob's shaggy head, and opened his letter.

  "Dear Sonnie,--Can't get home before four days. Look after Babs. Your Loving Father."

  That was all. The writing certainly left something to be desired, butit being the first letter the boy had ever received, he read it twiceover to himself and twice over to Babs; then he put it away inside hisNew Testament.

  "Hurrah, Babs!" he cried, picking the child up again, and swinging herto and fro till she laughed and kicked and crowed with delight--"hurrah,Babs! we'll all away to the woods. Murrams shall keep house, and we'lltake our dinner with us."

  It was a droll procession. First walked Bob, looking extremely solemnand wise, and carrying Ransey's fishing-rod. Close behind him came thetall and graceful crane, not quite so solemn as Bob; for he was catchingflies, and his head and neck were in constant motion, and every now andthen he would hop, first on one leg, and then on the other. RanseyTansey himself brought up the rear, with a small bag slung in front ofhim, and Babs in a shawl on his back.

  Away to the woods? Yes; and there was a grand little stream there, andthe boy knew precisely where the biggest fish lay, and meant to havesome for supper. The leveret could hang for a few days.

  Arrived at his fishing-ground, where the stream swept slowly through thedarkling wood, Ransey lowered his back-burden gently on the moss, andlay down on his face in front of her to talk Babs into the best oftempers.

  This was not difficult to do, for she was really a good-natured child;so he gave her his big clasp-knife and his whistle, and proceeded to gethis rod in order and make a cast. Bob lay down beside the tiny mite toguard her. She could whistle herself, but couldn't get Bob to do thesame, although she rammed the whistle halfway down his throat, andafterwards showed him how she did it.

  Well, there are a few accomplishments that dogs cannot attain to, and Ibelieve whistling is one of them.

  The fish were very kind to-day, and Ransey was making a very good bag.Whenever he had finished fishing in about forty yards of stream, hethrew down his rod and trotted off back for Babs, and placed her downabout twenty yards ahead of him, fished another forty yards and changedher position again, Bob always following close at the boy's heels andlying down beside his charge, and permitting himself to be pulled about,and teased, and cuddled, and kissed one moment, and hammered over thenose with that tin whistle the next. Even when Babs tried to gouge hiseye out with a morsel of twig, he only lifted his head and licked herface till, half-blinded, she had to drop the stick and tumble on herback.

  "You's a funny dog, Bob," she said; "'oor tisses is so lough [rough]."

  Of course they were. He meant them to be, for Bob couldn't afford tolose an eye.

  I think the Admiral enjoyed himself quite as much as any one. He chosea bit of the stream for himself where the bank was soft, and there hewaded and fished for goodness only knows what--beetles, minnows, tinyfrogs, anything alive and easy to swallow.

  I don't think, however, that the Admiral was a very good Judge of hisswallowing capabilities. That neck of his was so very, very long, andthough distensible enough on the whole, sometimes he encountereddifficulties that it was almost impossible to surmount. Tadpoles sliddown easily enough, so did flies and other tiny insects; but a too-bigfrog, if invited to go down head-foremost, often had a disagreeable wayof throwing his hind-legs out at right angles to the entrance of theAdmiral's gullet. This placed the Admiral in a somewhat awkwardpredicament. No bird can look his best with its beak held forciblyagape, and the two legs of a disorderly frog sticking out one at eachside.

  The crane would hold his head in the air and consider for a bit, thenlower his face against the bank and rub one leg in, then change cheeksand rub the other in; but lo! while doing so, leg number one would bekicked out again, and by the time that was replaced out shot leg numbertwo.

  It was very annoying and ridiculous. So the Admiral would stepcautiously on to the green bank, and stride very humbly down the streamto Ransey Tansey, with his neck extended and his head on a level withhis shoulders.

  "You see the confounded fix I'm in," he would say, looking up at hismaster with one wonderfully wise eye.

  Then Ransey would pull out the frog, and the little rascal would hopaway, laughing to himself apparently.

  "Crok--crok--cray--ay!" the Admiral would cry, and go joyfully back tohis fishing-ground.

  But sometimes Mr Crane would swallow a big water-beetle, and if thisspecimen had a will of its own, as beetles generally have, it wouldcatch hold of the side of the gullet and hang on halfway down.

  "I ain't going another step," the beetle would say; "it isn't goodenough. The road is too long and too dark."

  So this disobliging beetle would just stop there, making a kind of amump in the poor Admiral's neck.

  When Ransey saw his droll pet stride out of the pool and walk solemnlytowards a tree and lean his head against it, and close his eyes, the ladknew pretty well what was the matter.

  There is nothing like patience and plenty of it, and presently thebeetle would go to sleep, relax its hold, and slip quietly down toregions unknown. There would be no more mump now, and the crane wouldsuddenly take leave of his senses with joy.

  "Kaik--kaik--kay--ay?" he would scream, and go madly hopping and dancinground the tree, a most weird and uncanny-looking object, raising one legat a time as high as he could, and swinging his head and neck fore andaft, low and aloft, from starboard to port, in such a droll way thatRansey Tansey felt impelled to throw himself on his back, so as to laughwithout bursting that much-prized solitary suspender of his, while Bobsat up to bark, and Babs clapped her tiny hands and crowed.

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  Ransey got tired of fishing at last, and made up his rod. There wassome sort of silent joy or happiness away down at the bottom of theboy's heart, and for a moment he couldn't make out what was causing it.The big haul of fish he had caught? Oh, no; that was a common exploit.Having smashed the postman with a mushy turnip? That was capital, ofcourse, but that wasn't it. Ah! now he has remembered--father wascoming home in four days. Hurrah! he must have some fun on the head ofit. Ransey loved to have a good time.

  But, duty first. Babs was a good little girl--or a "dood 'ittle dirl,"as she phrased it--but even good girls get hungry sometimes. Babs mustbe fed. She held her arms straight out towards him.

  "Babs is detting tired," she lisped.

  So he took her up, kissed her, and made much of her for a minute, thenset her against a tree where the moss was green and soft. With a bit ofstring and a burdock leaf he made her a beautiful bib; for though Ranseyhimself was scantily attired, the child was really prettily dressed.

  And now the boy produced a pickle bottle from the luncheon bag, likewisea small horn spoon. The pickle bottle contained a pap of bread andmilk; and with this he proceeded to feed Babs somewhat after the mannerof cramming turkeys, until she shook her head at last, and declared shewould _never_ eat any more--"Never, never, _never_!"

  There was a turnip-field not far off. Now Bob was as fond of rawturnips as his master. He knew where the field was, too.

  "Off ye go for a turmut, Bob; and mind ye bring a big 'un. I'll lookafter Babs till ye comes back."

  Bob wasn't long gone. He had obeyed his master's instructions to thevery letter--in fact, he had pulled more than six turnips before hefound one to please him. [It is easy to teach a dog this trick, onlystupid farmer folks sometimes don't see the fun of it. Farmer folks areobtuse.--G.S.] That "turmut" made Bob and Ransey an excellent luncheon,and Babs had a slice to amuse herself with.

  The day was delightfully warm, and the wind soft and balmy. Thesunshine filtered down through a great beech-tree, and wherever it fellthe grass was a brighter green or the de
ad leaves a lighter brown. Nowand then a May beetle would go droning past; there were flies of allsorts and sizes, from the gnats that danced in thousands over the bushesto the great rainbow-like dragonfly that darted hither and thitheracross the stream; grasshoppers green and brown that alighted on a leafone moment, gave a click the next, and hurled themselves into space; ablackbird making wild melody not far off; the bold lilt of a chaffinch;the insolent mocking notes of a thrush; and the coo-cooing ofwood-pigeons sounding mournfully from a thicket beyond the stream.

  High up in that beech-tree myriads of bees were humming, though theycould not be seen. No wonder that under such sweet drowsy influencesBabs began to wink and wink, and blink and blink, till finally her weehead fell forward on her green-bough bib.

  Babs was sound asleep.

  Book 1--CHAPTER THREE.

  "O