Dick Lionheart Part 4

"He's not for sale, thank you," answered d.i.c.k politely.

"Nonsense! Every dog has a price, and most likely you've picked him up somewhere underhanded. So come along."

d.i.c.k flushed scarlet at the insult and again said "No!" decidedly.

The man turned and whispered something to a girl in an orange scarf and black and green frock, who had come out of the show waggon, and she tossed her head and laughed merrily. But now the broken caravan was pulled aside and the road was partly clear again, and the carrier drove on, and soon with a mighty flourish of the reins he stopped in front of the "George Inn" at Weyn, and everyone got down.

CHAPTER V.

PAT LOST AND FOUND.

For two days in the year at the annual fair, the quiet little town of Weyn gave itself up to merrymaking. Shows and caravans choked the narrow streets; huge roundabouts as "patronised by all the crowned heads of Europe," swung giddily round in the market-place, and the shouts of the stall-keepers, and the din of the orchestra, and the ceaseless crack of the rifle ranges, where boys were shooting for cocoa-nuts, made a noise that was almost deafening.

The piles of gingerbread and coloured rock on the stalls looked very tempting, and d.i.c.k, with Pat in his arms, and three-and-ninepence in his pocket, felt rich as he walked by. But though he liked sweet things, all the more because he had had so few to enjoy, he would not be tempted to buy.

"Don't believe Lionheart had cakes and candy--not when he was on the crusades, anyhow. It must be bread and cheese, and maybe a whole ha'poth of milk for us, Pat, to-day. When I'm a fitter you shall have a good meaty bone every day of your life!"

Pat looked up, as if he quite understood, and on some old stone steps in one of the quieter streets they were soon sharing rations, with appet.i.tes that a duke might have envied.

"Here, boy, hold my horse for a couple of minutes, will you? Don't let go; he doesn't like this pandemonium any better than I do."

In a moment d.i.c.k was on his feet and ready for business, and for the second time that day he gripped a bit of strap, with the resolve to hold on at all costs.

Only _this_ horse was a beautiful chestnut, with a coat like satin, and harness that must have cost more than carrier Brown's whole turn-out.

The gentleman went into the post-office opposite, but the noise of the fair evidently upset the spirited horse, and he was very restless and impatiently pawed the ground and tossed his head.

"What a lot of stamps he must be getting!" thought d.i.c.k, when five minutes had gone by and there was still no sign of the rider's return.

A party of children, blowing penny trumpets, clattered past and the horse gave a spring that taxed d.i.c.k's wrists to the utmost.

He was too busy and anxious to think about Pat, so he did not see or hear the girl in the orange scarf steal up to him and offer a dainty piece of meat, as he sat patiently waiting behind. Alas! for dogs'

nature, the temptation was too great! He followed the decoy for a few yards and was then allowed to seize the bait. In a moment a black shawl was flung over the silky head, and the dog was s.n.a.t.c.hed up and carried round the corner and across the Market Place.

Pat struggled and snapped and barked in vain, and the girl hurried through the town to a back lane where a number of caravans were drawn up out of the way. At one of these the showman in the velveteen coat was standing, and he instantly opened an inner compartment and, giving Pat a sharp blow, thrust him inside and turned the key.

"Good for you, Meg!" he cried with a chuckle. "That dog 'll be worth money to the show, by the time I've trained him. 'The Wonderful Black and Tan Performer,' &c. We'll keep him shut up till we're far from here, and if any questions is asked it's our dog, and that boy's a thief that have stole him from our 'appy 'ome."

"All right, dad, that's a good idea. We'll go back to the Square now.

They won't be likely to come and look here."

The Post Office was very full that morning, and the girl behind the counter looked worried, as she tried to meet all the demands of hurried customers.

But at last the owner of the chestnut horse got his business of money orders and telegrams finished and came out.

"That's right, my lad; here's sixpence for your trouble," he said as he took the reins from d.i.c.k and mounted and rode off.

"Sixpence." Another good payment for a small piece of hard work!

d.i.c.k looked down triumphantly at the coin, but his face changed in a moment. This was no sixpence, such as he had often been entrusted with on Mrs. Fowley's errands, but a coin of s.h.i.+ning yellow gold.

"It's half a sovereign," he cried breathlessly, and just for one moment the thought came, "Now I can take the train and ride to Ironboro'.

Surely ten s.h.i.+llings would buy a ticket for all the way."

But like a flash the temptation came and went. "Lionhearts don't steal," he cried as he dashed down the street after the horseman crying, "Stop! Stop!"

But the fleet and spirited horse was already far on the way, and though d.i.c.k ran as fast as his feet could go the distance increased every moment.

He would have had no chance of success but for a carriage coming in the opposite direction. It carried several ladies and the rider reined in his horse for a chat.

d.i.c.k ran on and reached the group just as the rider was preparing to go on again.

"You are followed," said one of the ladies softly. "I am sure this boy wants to speak to you."

The rider looked round, and recognising d.i.c.k said, "Well, my boy, what is it?"

"The money sir, please, you said you gave me sixpence and it was half a sovereign. I've brought it back."

"Well done. There's one honest boy in the fair, at any rate. Take this for your trouble, but don't spend it all on ginger bread."

"Oh, thank you, sir, I shan't spend any. I'm going to Ironboro'."

"But that is a hundred miles off, at least. Why are you going so far?"

asked the lady.

"To find my uncle and learn to be an engineer."

"H'm, a large order for a small man," said the gentleman kindly.

"Here, I'll give you a character that may help you more than money."

And tearing a leaf out of his pocket book, he wrote on it, "I have proved the bearer to be a quick and honest boy. Dale Melville."

"There, laddie, that name is known in Ironboro', and it may do you a good turn."

"Are you going alone?" asked the lady with white hair, who had been listening to all that pa.s.sed, and seemed amused at d.i.c.k's grat.i.tude.

"Oh, yes, ma'am--at least only Pat and me. He is my little dog, you know."

Then with sudden recollection he turned hurriedly and looked for his faithful follower. But there was no Pat in sight, and flus.h.i.+ng painfully, he cried, "Oh, he's left behind. I must run back at once, or he'll be lost in the fair."

And scarcely waiting to lift his old cap to the ladies, he darted back towards the town. Thrusting the new half-crown deep into his pocket, he sped on, calling Pat and whistling for him in vain.

"Maybe he dropped asleep from tiredness, and I'll find him by the steps again."

But there was no trace of the little dog there, and d.i.c.k felt very unlike Lionheart as he searched for his lost companion, and asked all the pa.s.sers by if they had seen him. But all the people seemed intent on their own pleasure, and for an hour d.i.c.k walked up and down without any tidings of Pat.

Then a mischievous looking urchin playing marbles looked up as d.i.c.k pa.s.sed and said mysteriously, "I know about your dog, but I shan't tell for nothing. Give me a penny, for a ride on the gallopin' horses."

d.i.c.k put a penny into the grimy hand, and the boy said in a loud whisper, "A girl had him while you was holding the horse--'ticed him off with a piece of meat. I see her."