Lives of the Fur Folk Part 10

So Stubbs and Grunter hunted together that night; that is, Grunter set the pace and chose the paths, and Stubbs followed. They went by the main badger path, and crossed the lane which runs across Knockdane, slithering down a five-foot drop which is scored in every direction by deep claw-prints, and entered the Big Meadow together. The cattle slept in the dewy gra.s.s, and, stealing in among them, the badgers hunted every inch of ground for beetles. Every now and then a 'b.u.m-clock' boomed overhead, and then fell 'splotch' to earth. Small chance had it when the badgers' noses probed for it in the gra.s.s: but Grunter took the lion's share, for in the wood there is a law that, during the days of courts.h.i.+p, the female may take what she will and her mate shall not gainsay her.

Henceforward they hunted together night after night. Sometimes they sought for partridges' eggs--eggs are a badger t.i.t-bit, when he can find them, which is not often--and these went down, sh.e.l.l and all, 'crunch-squolch.' Sometimes they beat a way through the standing meadow gra.s.s, leaving a track behind which two days' sun would not eradicate, or searched for wasps' nests in the hedge-banks. These were honeymoon nights, and, sweet though they were, they could not last for ever. It was the weather which first stimulated the pair to find a permanent 'set.' It was showery, with now a cool wet evening which made the badgers think of the comfort of a deep burrow in preference to a makes.h.i.+ft rabbit-hole or drain; and then again came a hot starlit night, a hunter's night, when Stubbs filed his claws on a tree-trunk because of the wasted digger's energy within him.

On the second such night they went to Larch Hill. The soil there is dry and sandy, and it is a pleasant place--cool in summer and warm in winter--and, wherever the wind stirs, the supple larches bend before it, and nod and whisper mysteriously among themselves. Here there was an empty rabbit burrow, and Stubbs poked in his nose, and snuffled.

Grunter shouldered him aside and crawled in until only her s.h.a.ggy hind-quarters appeared. Then she began to dig, and a continuous shower of sand spurted out between her hind-legs. When the heap bid fair to block her in altogether, she backed awkwardly, shovelling it out as she came. This was Stubbs' chance. He lumbered into the cavity, and sc.r.a.ped likewise until his coat was full of dust. Grunter tried to press in after him, but a well-directed kick sent her sprawling upon her broad back, and she was obliged to wait outside until her mate was tired. So they worked alternately, until a most respectable tunnel had been driven under the larch trees.

Meanwhile, however, the herons flew in from the bogs, full cropped after the night's fis.h.i.+ng, and the morning wind was heavy with the scent of elder flowers. The caverns of shadow around began to resolve themselves into cool green arcades, and the woodc.o.c.k croaked during their aerial rompings overhead. The larks sang up on the hill, and the wood birds answered with a blast of song. The badgers were tired and dusty and sleepy. Grunter crept into the half-completed 'earth'; and Stubbs, after pausing to lick his sore pads, followed her. They lay down with grunts of content, snout to snout, stomachs upwards, and in two minutes were snoring comfortably. That was their house-warming.

CHAPTER II

BORRIGAN'S BAITING

'Get out, ye baste!' growled Marky Borrigan, shaking the sack he carried over the mouth of a barrel. There was a stifled grunt, a struggle, and a grey bundle fell into the cask with a thud.

'Shure, we have him all safe,' said Borrigan, with a grin.

'Begob, that was a good night's work,' said Micksey Bolger, henchman and confederate of the said Mark. 'Where had ye him cot?'

''Twas over in Knockdane. I was there at two o'clock this morning and up at the "earth." I had the sack wid a bit o' cord run round the mouth, an' I put it down the hole wid just the mouth set open, an' the twine fast to a three-thrunk. I sent the dog huntin' down the wood, and by and by I heard this felly cantherin' up as it might be a pig.

He stopped just fernent me, and bedam, he cut a look on me as wicked as a Christian, an' I t'rew the stick at him an' druve him into the sack in the hole. But, indade, whin I come to pick it up he was fightin' inside like the divil an' all his childher, and a terrible job I had to git him here, six mile in the a.s.s-cair.'

'He's a gran' big felly,' said Bolger, peering into the cask. 'I'm told Andy Grace'll bring his tarrier, an' there are two boys from Ballyoughter wid a dog that won the coorsin' there at the New Year, and two three more. This chap is fresh an' in fine condition. Bedam, he'll put up a great fight this evening!'

'Put him, barrel an' all, into the ould barn,' said Borrigan. 'The flure there is concrate, an' he'll not get away on us.'

They carried the barrel into the barn, and went away, and the yard was left quiet.

All Stubbs' preconceived notions of life had been rudely shaken, when he had darted into his burrow, only to find it changed into a treacherous cul-de-sac; and they had been still more overset when he found himself thus unceremoniously imprisoned in the barrel. At first he was bewildered into quietude, but as, in spite of his stolid ways, a badger is as plucky a beast as hunts the woods, he soon began to revolve plans of escape. When all had been quiet for an hour and a half (a badger's wits are like his legs, slow but serviceable), Stubbs stood up and upset the barrel. The barn was lighted by a single loophole, and was quite empty. The floor was of concrete and undiggable, but the walls were plaster, and Stubbs' claws--the strongest in the woods--stripped them bare quickly. Alas! underneath were bricks, bricks--nothing but bricks: not a c.h.i.n.k or cranny to give purchase to his claws. In fear and trembling he hid in the cask again, where the mild light of the summer morning could not filter; and there, ostrich-like, he believed himself safe.

That day was a holiday, and therefore it was arranged that, in the afternoon, the cur dogs of the neighbourhood should have an opportunity of trying their mettle against Stubbs' formidable teeth and claws. It was very hot, and the badger, accustomed to the fresh mildness of the hours of darkness and the cool of the burrows, gasped in the stuffy barn. There had been a pan of water in the place, but in his first terrified scamper he had upset this, and it had not been refilled. He panted, and watched a dusty streak of sunlight creep from west to east along the wall. Every time that he heard a louder voice or step outside, he fled into the barrel; for hitherto he had known nothing but the silence and shadows of the woods at night, and noise and light were both terrible to him.

At last he heard footsteps clatter up to the barn. The door was flung open, and a flood of sunlight poured in.

'All right! he's in the tub,' said Borrigan, looking inside. Stubbs felt himself lifted up and carried out. There was much clamour of voices and shuffling of feet.

'Take two to one on Grace's tarrier.' ... 'Not weight enough. Shure, none o' them dogs could pull him down.' ... 'A s.h.i.+lling on Comerford's sheep-dog!' and so on.

The barrel was turned upon its side, and Stubbs, half blinded by the glare, and wholly terrified, saw many men peering at him. The cl.u.s.ter of grinning faces all seemed to be part of one awful monster; and he slunk back, growling, with bared teeth.

'Begob, he'll put up a fight,' said Micksey Bolger. 'Let the dogs come at him wan be wan, at first.'

The first was a medium-sized dog, with p.r.i.c.k ears, and a woolly yellow coat. He evinced a decided desire to fly at the throats of the rest of his kind, but this being checked, he advanced truculently to the barrel, with his scruff standing up. Some one kicked the tub and shouted: 'Git up, ye divil'; and there was a chorus of yells from the bystanders. Stubbs bundled out in a hurry, and at the same moment the dog flew at his throat. The unprovoked a.s.sault restored his wits to the badger. At any rate here was a definite enemy, who fought, not with sacking and rope, but by recognised methods. He struck out, scoring his a.s.sailant's shoulder, and then backed hastily into the barrel, until only his striped snout could be seen. A badger realises that his weakness lies in his lack of agility, and by preference he fights with his back to a tree, that he may not be taken in the rear.

Three times the dog charged the barrel; and each time, strong and vigilant, the badger drove him back, amid the shouts of the men and the yells of the surrounding dogs. For the fourth time the dog--the blood trickling down his muzzle--rushed in. His temper was up, he was utterly reckless, and he left his shoulder unguarded. Like lightning Stubbs' claws fell--and under that stroke the dog's ribs were laid bare. His owner came forward and carried him out of the ring, and the next dog was brought out.

Of the fight which Stubbs fought for the next hour I shall say little more, for it is neither good to read about nor to write of. It will be sufficient to say that of the five dogs which at last were set upon him at once, four bear scars to this day, and the fifth never moved again. Although Stubbs still crouched victoriously in the barrel, he had sustained three or four wounds. His eyes were red, for he was very angry, and he growled continuously; but he was very tired. However, there was no dog left to match him.

The men stood round undecidedly, when suddenly a voice in the group said: 'Shure, ye should set Kinch.e.l.la's dog agin him!'

'Me dog's too good for this sort of job,' returned Kinch.e.l.la. But his voice was none of the steadiest, for, in addition to the farm and a flouris.h.i.+ng poaching business, Borrigan showed the match-box in the window.[4]

[4] In some parts of Ireland a box of matches in a cottage window is a secret sign that the place is a 'shebeen,' or house where drink is distilled, or sold without a licence.

'Ah, now, what hurt to him,' said Mark in honeyed tones, for he was in no hurry for his customers to depart. 'Shure, he is twice the size o'

that little baste there, and he'd have him pulled down aisy.'

'Pull him down, is it?' broke in another. 'Begob, that badger would skkin anny dog between this an' the say, let alone that bit of a sheep-dog o' Kinch.e.l.la's.'

'He'd pull him down fast enough,' retorted Kinch.e.l.la sharply, 'but I've no mind to have him kilt on me, an' that lad's claws cut like a mower!'

'Bring him, an' let us see it!' shouted another. 'Didn't me little tarrier ate the face off him lasht week, an' him runnin' from him like a rabbit.'

Kinch.e.l.la turned round scowling. 'Bedam, but I'll fetch him,' he said thickly; 'an' whin he has this baste aten, ye'll alther ye singin'.'

And he strode heavily away.

Now James Kinch.e.l.la's dog, Moss, was well known. He was a big grey sheep-dog with a wall eye; and although he counted a collie among his immediate ancestors, the rest of his pedigree was buried in oblivion.

However, he was reckoned the best cattle dog in the country; and besides, had the name for killing a dog (let alone a fox) in half the time taken by his peers. He was the apple of his master's eye, and in a cooler moment Kinch.e.l.la would sooner have tackled the badger himself, bare handed; but as it was, he presently reappeared with the dog in a leash.

Stubbs was exhausted, for, besides the strain of his imprisonment, he had been fighting for his life for more than an hour; nevertheless, when some one kicked the barrel and shouted at him, he prepared for battle again. But it was a hot evening, and the dog was not inclined to fight. He sat down and yawned. To his master's orders he merely whined apologetically and wagged his tail. 'More power to ye,' shouted Grace sarcastically. Kinch.e.l.la had been drinking, and his eyes were hot and angry. He dealt his dog an unaccustomed kick, and urged him savagely towards the barrel. Moss rose, hurt and puzzled; then catching sight of Stubbs, he instantly a.s.sociated him with the outrage, and flew at his throat. The badger snapped back again, and they grappled together. In many respects they were evenly matched, for although the dog was the larger and more active of the two, the badger was heavy, and furthermore was protected by the barrel. However, Moss was too clever to be rash. He knew the power of Stubbs' paw, so he circled round just out of reach, endeavouring to tempt his opponent into the open that he might take him in the flank. But the badger was also very wary. He knew the strength of his position, and refused to budge. These feinting tactics went on for some minutes, and then the men began to jeer: 'He should have him cot by now' ... 'Indeed, he is a great lad on his pins' ... 'Not so handy wid his teeth'....

'd.a.m.n it,' shouted Kinch.e.l.la, 'what chance has the dog wid ye dirthy barrels?' And striding forward, in his drunken rage he tipped up the cask, and tumbled the badger into the open yard, just as the dog rushed in.

They met in a smother of dust, and whirled round. Now and then white fangs snapped, and once--twice the great claws of the badger fell and rose again, stained crimson. It was a fight to the death, and no man there dared interfere; not even James Kinch.e.l.la, who looked on, half sobered by the result of what he had done. Gradually the dust cleared, and the combatants, locked together, heaved this way and that in their struggle. The dog had seized the badger behind the left ear and shoulder, and again and again in his frenzy he almost lifted his antagonist from the ground; but the latter had a lower hold, and slowly and surely he was seeking his way to his enemy's throat. The dog felt the relentless fangs closing more and more tightly, and he fought madly for breath; but however torn, battered, beaten a badger may be, he never quits his hold, even in death. Gradually his teeth met ... the dog's struggles grew weaker ... his head lolled back.

'Pull off your divil, Borrigan!' yelled Kinch.e.l.la, breaking into the ring; but he was powerless to loosen Stubbs' jaws--those terrible jaws that are designed for such work as this.

'Shure, he has him kilt!' said Bolger.

It was many minutes before the two could be separated, for the badger clung to his dying adversary with a tenacity which defied them all.

Then the dog lay limp and still, and Stubbs himself was in little better plight.

James Kinch.e.l.la, completely sobered, picked up the body of his dog and walked in silence to the gate. The men made way for him to pa.s.s, and there were no more jeers nor laughter. 'Ye should put a bullet into that felly's head, Borrigan,' growled the owner of the other dead dog.

But Borrigan knew that the publican at Rathmore would pay well for the loan of the badger, and, without heeding the openly expressed anger of the men, he drove Stubbs back to the barn, and locked the door.

Some hours later the last drunken shouts had died away, and the yard was quiet once more. Stubbs had been hiding in a corner under a wisp of straw, but now that the daylight--the hateful daylight--and the noise were gone, he ventured to creep out. He was very tired, and his wounds were stiff and sore; nevertheless he was determined to escape.

He shuffled round the place, testing every brick in the walls.

Presently one pale moon-beam filtered through the keyhole. The moon was rising just as he had seen her rise night after night, behind the larches in front of the badger earth, miles away in Knockdane. There was only one crack, and that a very little one; nevertheless he worked his claws into the interstice and dug. Some minutes' hard labour, and then the loosened brick fell out. Inside, the mortar had crumbled a little, and broke away in cakes; nevertheless the bricks were sound, and now and then one jammed obliquely across the opening, and it gave him much trouble to dislodge it. At the end of two hours he had made quite a creditable breach in the masonry; but the wall was far more strongly built than that of most Irish barns, and he seemed as far as ever from the fresh air. Time after time he drew back panting, his tongue dry with dust; but nothing in the woods is stouter than a badger's claws except a badger's heart, and he always fell to work again. By and by he came to a place where the bricks had broken, and he tore them away more easily, sc.r.a.ping them out behind him with his st.u.r.dy hind-legs. Once a shrewd kick sent one flying across the barn with a clatter, and Stubbs scurried into the straw, in terror lest the men should be upon him again; but luckily Borrigan slept soundly, and never dreamed of how his captive was employing the night.

The moonlight began to fade, and the breeze which heralds the dawn sighed around the farm. Stubbs knew instinctively that morning was not far away, and that were he not free by then his chances of escape would be poor indeed. But surely a fresher draught blew through the stones? He stuck in his claws and sc.r.a.ped again, and five minutes later a brick fell--not inside the barn, but outwards with a thud into the field behind. He had made an opening at last. It was child's play to enlarge the hole that his head might enter; and where a badger's head and shoulders can go the rest of him can follow. He wormed his way between the bricks, and tumbled head over heels into the nettle bed below the wall.

No one saw him canter across the fields. The gra.s.s was soaked with dew, and the moon, red and luminous in the haze, looked at him like a friendly eye. He pattered along at his best pace, for the east was growing bright, and he feared lest daylight should find him in the open. He knew the country immediately round Knockdane as he knew the pa.s.sage of his own burrow, but these fields were strange to him.