Try and Trust Or Abner Holden's Bound Boy Part 23

"So you are here, you truant," said the boy. "Why did you run away? What have you to say for yourself, sir?"

The dog answered by a wag of his tail.

"Oh, yes, you may wag your tail, but I've a great mind to punish you for running away, and putting me to the trouble of finding you."

"h.e.l.lo!" cried Abner, in a loud voice.

"Who's that?" thought the boy, surprised.

As the voice evidently came from within the cabin, he ventured to the door, and looked in. He was considerably surprised to see Abner Holden, whom he knew well by sight, lying bound hand and foot in the corner.

"Is that you, Mr. Holden?" he asked, in a tone of surprise.

"Of course it is," said Abner, who was not in a very pleasant frame of mind.

"Are you tied?"

"Don't you see I am?" snarled Abner.

"Who tied you?"

"That rascal Ralph. I mean to have him hung, if I live."

"Ralph! Why, I thought he was quiet and peaceable."

"He tried to murder me, but changed his mind, and tied me, as you see."

"I can't understand it."

"There is no need of understanding it. Come and unfasten these cords. I feel stiff and cramped."

The boy tried to unfasten the cord, but it was too securely tied.

"Where is your knife?"

"I haven't got any."

"Then take the axe."

There was an axe standing at the corner of the room. This the boy got, and, with the keen edge, severed the string.

Abner stretched himself to relieve his cramped limbs. Then he bethought himself of his late persecutor.

"Is that your dog?" he asked, surveying his four-legged enemy with no friendly expression.

"Yes, that's Carlo. Come here, Carlo."

"He's been in here barking at me, and threatening to bite me, and now I'll have my revenge."

"What do you mean?" inquired the boy, in alarm, as Abner seized the axe and swung it over his head.

"Stand aside, boy!"

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to kill that brute."

"No, no, he's a good dog. He won't do any harm," said the boy, in alarm.

"I'll kill him," said Abner, fiercely.

The dog surveyed his enemy with suspicion. He seemed to understand that danger menaced him. He growled in a low, hoa.r.s.e, ominous tone, which showed that he was on his guard, and meant to do his part of the fighting, if necessary.

His owner had retreated to the door, and now tried to call him away.

"Carlo, Carlo, come out here, sir."

But Carlo would not come. He had no intention of shrinking from the danger that threatened him, but was bent on defending himself, as became a brave and dauntless dog, whose courage was above suspicion.

If Abner had not been so exasperated, he might have been terrified, but anger re-enforced his courage, and, moreover, he had a great deal of confidence that the axe which he held in his hand would make him more than a match for the dog.

"I'll kill him!" he exclaimed, and once more he swung the axe over his head, and brought it down with a tremendous force in the direction of the dog.

Alas for poor Carlo, if the axe had struck him! But he was wary, and knew something of warlike tactics, and with watchful eye carefully noted Abner's movements. The boy uttered a cry of alarm at the peril of his favorite, but Carlo sprang to one side just as the axe descended, and it was buried in the earthen floor of the cabin so deeply that Abner could not immediately recover it.

The advantage was thus transferred to the other side, and the dog was not slow in perceiving it.

With a bound he sprang upon his adversary, and bore him to the floor, seizing his coat between his strong teeth. He pulled and tugged at this with a strength which no ordinary cloth could possibly withstand.

"Take him off! take him off!" shrieked Abner in terror.

The boy sprang to the rescue.

"Come away, Carlo," he said, grasping him by the collar; "come away, that's a good dog."

But, habitually obedient as Carlo was, his young master found it difficult to get him away. He felt that he had received a grievous injury--that his life had been attempted--and he wanted to have satisfaction. Finally his master succeeded in drawing him away, but not till Mr. Holden's coat was badly torn.

The latter was crestfallen and angry, and not so grateful as he ought to have been to his young defender.

"I'll make your father pay for this coat, you young rascal!" he said.

"It isn't my fault, Mr. Holden," said the boy.

"Yes, it is. It was your dog that tore my coat."

"Carlo wouldn't have torn it, if you hadn't attacked him."

"He attacked me first."