Lucile Triumphant Part 8

"But I never thought a collie had half a chance against a bull dog," Mrs.

Wescott interrupted, incredulously. "And such a dog as Bull, at that!"

"Well, you see, the collie's owner explained all that afterward. He said that Bull couldn't get at his dog's throat because of his unusually long, thick hair--and, as a rule, that's Bull's first move, you know."

"Catch him by the throat and hang on--yes, I know," her guardian supplemented. "Then what did Jim do?"

"He wanted to go to the rescue. I believe he would have tried to pull the collie off with his own hands, but a man held him off, crying, 'Haven't you any sense, man, to try to separate dogs when they're fighting?'

"'Fighting?' roared Jim. 'It isn't a fight--it's slaughter. If he's your mutt, call him off. Don't ye see he's killin' 'im?'

"'He is punis.h.i.+ng him pretty badly, I'll admit,' said the stranger, so calmly that Jim nearly exploded.

"'If you don't call that dog o' yourn off,' he yelled, purple with rage, 'by all that's holy, I will, and 'twill be with a shot-gun.'

"The man saw he meant it, so he whistled softly."

"And all this time Bull was being punished?" said Mrs. Wescott.

"Yes; he was simply down and out. He didn't seem to have the power to move a muscle. When his master whistled, the big collie stood still, c.o.c.ked one ear, and then trotted over, as if what he had done to poor Bull were just in the day's work.

"'You brute!' Jim raged. 'I don't know which is worse, you or your dog!'

"The man only patted his dog, and said, 'You've done a good day's work, old man.'

"This last shot was lost on Jim, for he was already bending over Bull, patting his poor old mangled head and calling him all the endearing names he could think of. Finally, seeing that Bull was either too weak or too ashamed to get up and could only wag his stub of a tail, he picked him up very tenderly and started for home.

"That was anything but a triumphal journey. An army returning after overwhelming defeat could not have attracted more attention than those two old warriors. Heads popped out of every door and window, and before he was halfway home he had a train of small boys following him. I declare, when I saw the old man, he was almost crying. When I went up to him and patted the dog's head, he said, brokenly, 'He's all I've got, and now they've even gone and done him up!'"

"Poor old Jim," said Mrs. Wescott. "Everyone hated Bull, but you can't help feeling sorry for him and his master when they're down and out."

"Oh, it was really pitiful," said Lucile, "and it made me so desperate to see all those thoughtless cruel boys following him, hooting at him, and laughing at him and calling poor old battered Bull all sorts of names. So I turned around and looked at them. I saw that little Bob Fletcher was one of the crowd.

"'Bob,' I said, 'suppose your Rover had been hurt--would you like to be laughed at?'

"'I'd like to see anybody that'd try,' said he, manfully.

"'Then why do you turn round and make fun of Bull when he's in trouble?

It seems to me you're acting mighty like cowards!'

"The words had a magical effect. I don't suppose it had struck the boys in that light before, but it was more than their manhood could stand to be called cowards.

"'We ain't cowards,' said one, belligerently, 'and I'll fight anybody that says we are,' after which they all looked sheepish and started off in twos and threes, calling to each other that they'd better hurry and finish that game in the field--it would be getting dark soon!"

"You always did have a way with the young folks, Lucy," smiled her guardian; "but that was a real act of kindness. What did old Jim do?"

"Oh, he gave me a sort of wintry smile and said, 'Thank'ee little gal. I couldn't lick the lot of 'em myself, 'count of Bull here!' Then he stumbled on, muttering to the dog.

"Poor old Bull," Lucile concluded. "His glory had departed forever and ever----"

"Oh, Fire, long years ago----" the words came from ten girls' hearts, low, sweet, and vibrant with feeling.

Their guardian sat as if turned to stone.

CHAPTER VII

THE MAGIC CITY

The last sweet note hesitated, sighed, and softly merged in the crackling of the fire, and still their guardian did not move.

For a long moment she sat upright and still, her hands clutching the arms of her chair, her gaze fixed steadily on the tiny, darting flames.

Perhaps she saw there even more than the girls sensed, for when she turned to them, her eyes were bright with unshed tears.

"Girls, dear girls," she cried, unsteadily, "what a welcome you have given me! And I had begun to think you had forgotten all about your guardian," and as she spoke she held out her arms so that the girls came rus.h.i.+ng.

Then such a hugging and kissing and asking of foolish questions and answering of them in like, but delightful manner, until Mrs. Wescott was forced to say, laughingly and in the same old tone they had heard so often in camp:

"Girls, don't you think it would be better to hear one at a time?"

The girls laughed gaily and settled themselves so near their guardian that "they couldn't possibly miss a word," as Jessie explained afterward when describing the scene to her mother.

"Oh, it's a sight for sore eyes to see all my camp-fire girls again,"

said Mrs. Wescott, as her eyes traveled happily over the little group about her.

Some threw themselves on the floor at her feet, while others were curled up on the huge divan, and Marjorie and Jessie perched on the arms of her chair. But all the bright faces were turned toward her with such happy and expectant interest that a lump seemed to rise in her throat, and she had much ado to speak at all.

"It is wonderful to have you here after all this time," cried Jessie, snuggling close to her guardian as she spoke. "I feel as if any minute you're likely to fade away just as the ghosts and visions do in the moving pictures."

There was a general laugh, and then Evelyn broke in, gallantly.

"I protest," she said, stoutly. "I deny that our guardian is a ghost."

"No; but she is a vision," said a voice behind them, and Lucile slipped noiselessly into the circle.

"Goodness, Lucile, anybody would think you were the redskin you look like," commented Dorothy, a trifle sharply, for she had started in a most undignified manner.

"See, you frightened the child, Lucile," said Marjorie, aggravatingly.

"You should be more careful with one so young."

"What do you call yourself?" retorted Dorothy, and Lucile saw it was high time she took a hand in the argument.

"Don't tease, Marj," she admonished. "And don't get mad about nothing, Dotty--I mean Dot," she corrected quickly, as Dorothy eyed her menacingly.

"I don't wonder she draws the line at Dotty," laughed Jessie. "I haven't called you that for two weeks, Dot; I've kept track."