The reform of Shaun

Front matter

u.

f, v

Book J3

II

J IM opened the gate to the kennel yard, but none of the dogs came running out, not even the puppies. They stood near the opening in a close-wedged mass and looked at Shaun. None of the stumpy tails were wagging, none of the shiny teeth were bared in welcome. Each stocky Irish terrier stood and glowered, and Shaun, for the first time in his boisterous life, felt ill at ease. He hung back as Jim pulled him toward the gate.

“You see,” said Jim, “they understand you. Larry, come out.”

Shaun’s own twin trotted past him and took no notice of him. Jim thrust Shaun in among the others, took off his leash, and was about to close the [ 7 ]

gate. Then he paused. “ Brian ! ” he said to the old dog.

Master and dog looked at each other knowingly. Brian’s stump-tail slowly moved. 64 Go in there for a few days,” said Jim. “ See if you can’t teach him something.” Brian walked in after Shaun, and the gate was shut behind him.

The other dogs crowded close beside Brian, following him to the back of the yard. Larry went with Jim into the house. Shaun, companionless, pressed up against the pickets and gazed at the corner around which his master had gone. Mr. Davis was in the bright and beautiful world ; Shaun was in the dingy kennel once more. But his master did not return, and Shaun at last, with a toss of the head, turned to the others.

An unnatural quiet was over them. None of the puppies were playing ; they were sitting in a row. Some of the older dogs had curled up as if to sleep, but at his movement Shaun saw the wary eyes open, then slowly close again. Old Brian, his one-time tawny muzzle now nearly silver, sat calmly and took no notice of his descendant. But Shaun wandered up to him.

“ Brian,” he asked, beginning to feel a curious homelessness, “ Brian, has my master left me ? ”

“ Your master ? ” said Brian. “ You don’t deserve a master, or a home.”

“ Huh ! ” said Shaun. Brian was his great-great-grandfather, the idol and the model of the kennels, upon whose precepts Shaun himself had been brought up. But Shaun’s respect for Brian, in fact his respect for anything, [ 9 ]

had been much lessened by his stay in the great world.

Shaun went to Nip, the next oldest there. “ Nip,” he said, 64 how de do ? ”

But Nip was cross, always cross. 44 Get out,” he said, 44 you silly swaggerer ! ”

Now Shaun had learned to pride himself on his self-possession. 44 Oh,” he said jauntily, 44 glad to find you feeling so well, Nip.” He passed on to another dog.

But this time he got no answer at all, and as he went still further he was studiously neglected. The dogs were asleep, or appeared to be, curled up tight. But Shaun believed they were pretending. Next he went to the puppies, who sat unsteadily together. 44 Hullo, youngsters,” he said to them, 44 how you ’ve grown ! ”

[io]

The puppies snickered, but none made any other response. It seemed as if they giggled meaningly ; then by a common impulse they broke away, and by twos and threes scampered off, laughing together.

It was irritating. More than that, it was depressing, for where was Mr. Davis ? Was he really not coming back? And would none of the dogs speak pleasantly ? Perhaps Mr. Davis had said something unkind there at the gate. Shaun wished he had listened. He walked along the row of sleeping dogs ; none moved to make advances to him. N ip was awake still, but surly and bristling. Brian, after his contemptuous remark, sat like a statue. Again Shaun felt that curious homesickness.

He went back to the gate and sat down. Why did not Mr. Davis return ? Homesickness increased. It began to press upon him. Shaun could not help it — after a while he whimpered. He was not so very old. He looked around at the older dogs ; none paid attention. He raised his muzzle and whimpered louder. Then the barriers broke, and he lifted his voice in a full-drawn howl. “ Oh,” cried poor Shaun, “ nobody loves me ! ” His quivering nose pointed toward the cruel heavens.

III

A FTER a while Shaun became J % conscious that Brian had changed position — was, in fact, coming towards him. He kept on howling. Brian sat down by his side. Gradually Shaun became silent. There was a pause. Shaun did not look at Brian, but he knew that Brian was looking at him.

44 Tell me,” said Brian, finally, 44 why should any one love you ? ”

44 Why — why — ” stammered Shaun. “ What have you done,” asked Brian, 44 to earn any one’s love ? ”

44 Oh,” cried Shaun in despair, 44 1 wish I were with Horton’s Snap ! He would treat me kindly.”

“ Well, then,” asked Brian, patiently, “ who is Horton’s Snap ? ”

“ Horton,” said Shaun, “ is the butcher in our town. Mr. Davis’s town, I mean. Snap is his dog.”

“ What kind of a dog ? ”

“ Why, a fox terrier, with a bushy tail.”

There was a perceptible snicker from behind, but Shaun, quickly as he looked, could not tell from which dog it came.

“ A fox terrier with a bushy tail ? ” asked Brian, coldly. “ What did he do ? ”

“ Oh, just nothing,” said Shaun, glad of a chance to talk of his world. “ But he knew where there were such nice things to eat ! ”

“ With what other dogs did you go about ? ” pursued Brian, deliberately.

“ Why,” said Shaun, “ there was Jack

Rogers. He was a setter. And Mopsy Frost ; he was a pug.”

“ Fond of eating ? ” asked Brian.

“ Oh,” cried Shaun, enthusiastically, “ there was always such a fine pailful at his back door.”

“ Any other dogs ? ” inquired Brian.

“Well, I don’t know,” and Shaun thought. “ I don’t count the Waltons’ Max. He was rather too fond of going with his master.”

“ A thing you seldom did, I suppose ? ”

“Why, Brian,” whined Shaun, suddenly seeing where all this tended, “ Mr. and Mrs. Davis would go sometimes and call on friends, and expect me to wait outside. And it ’s still chilly nowadays.”

“It is cold work sitting on doorsteps,” commented Brian.

Shaun was encouraged. “ Yes,” he said eagerly, “ and what do you get for it ? I saw Trip W aters once, waiting for his mistress, and shivering. He would n’t come with me and play, or get some food.”

•“ I wonder why,” said Brian, as if to himself.

“ Oh,” explained Shaun, “ he had the old idea that a dog should n’t take food except from his master.”

“ Is that idea out of date ? ” asked Brian. “ I was brought up on it.”

“ Why, what ’s the use of it ? ” cried Shaun. “ In our town there ’s plenty to eat, and so a fellow helps himself. You can’t expect anything else.”

“ I should n’t think it very clean,” remarked Brian, critically.

“ Well, clean enough,” said Shaun.

*

“ And you don’t seem in such good trim as when you left.”

Shaun made no answer; he allowed his mind to wander. But the thought of his friends was presently too much for him, and he broke out again. “ It ’s been such fun ! ” he said. “ Do you ever bark at horses ? ”

“ I ? ” asked Brian, in surprise. “Well, of course you have to be pretty limber,” went on Shaun. “ Snap Horton showed me, but I can do it now as well as he. I almost made a horse run away once. And everybody gets so mad ! ”

“ Your master, too ? ”

“ He hated it,” admitted Shaun, guilelessly. “ He ’d catch me if he could, and tie me up. But it ’s such fun ! ”

“ Never struck you as being a little undignified ? ”

“ Why,” said Shaun. “No — I — That is, not exactly.”

“And how were you treated in the house ? ” asked Brian.

“ Why, pretty well, I must say. I had my own basket and a cushion. My mistress was kind to me — isn’t it nice when a woman pats you ? But she was particular, you know, just like Mr. Davis. She used to wash me once a week, and would make me eat my food on a cloth. Why should people object to crumbs? And then they never let me go into the dining-room. And she did n’t like to have me bark at people that passed the house. You see, they kept me pretty close.”

“ Of course you barked just the same ? ”

“ Of course,” said Shaun.

“ And did n’t take pains about the crumbs ? ”

44 Why — no.”

44 And slipped away whenever you could to join your fine friends ? ”

44 You talk,” answered Shaun, impatiently, 44 like Caesar White.”

44 It s a pity you did n’t listen more to him. But who is he ? ”

44 Well,” said Shaun, this time triumphantly, 44 you may sneer at the misfortune of Snap Horton’s birth, but Caesar White is no better. He is mixed mastiff and bull.”

Brian was not moved. 44 V ery well,” he said. 44 Birth is not everything. I have seen some pretty poor specimens come out of the best kennels (Shaun winced). You are young, Shaun, and have not yet learned that dogs should be measured by merit. What did Caesar White do ? ”

Shaun was still argumentative. 44 You [ 19 ]

can’t get me there,” he cried, “ either. He ran with a cart!” His contempt was deep.

“ Oh, Shaun,” said Brian, “ I thought you had learned these things. Tell me, is there any disgrace in minding your master’s business ? To run with a cart and guard it — for a horse cannot do that — is honorable.”

Shaun’s assurance vanished, and Brian waited a moment for the reproof to take effect. Then he asked : “ And Mr. Davis, was he kind ? ”

“Well,” said Shaun, “I thought he was at first. But after I made friends with Snap Horton, Mr. Davis used to punish me for the things I did, — barking, you know, and eating, and coming home late. And Snap said, you know, he was a pretty hard master. He never let any of his dogs run loose.”

“ No,” said Brian, “ so your father said.”

Shaun faltered. “ Did my father know Mr. Davis ? ”

Brian looked at Shaun with indignation. “ You don’t remember much that is said to you, do you ? Your father was Mr. Davis’s own dog. Have you forgotten that Mr. Davis took you because he was so fond of your father ? Why, I told you twenty times never to disgrace your family. In that town of all others, and with such a master ! ” Shaun felt a sudden sinking. “I — I forgot,” he said.

“ Your father,” went on Brian, “ used to come here sometimes for a week in the summer, when his master and mistress went yachting. Your father,” said Brian, “was a dog” It was as if Brian had said : “ He was a man”

44 Jim has his picture in the house. Gillie was the best dog that ever went out of Jim’s hands. Better than me. There ’s not a pup in the yard that can’t tell you all about him. And you forgot ! ”

Shaun held his head low.

44 I remember,” said Brian, 44 when the news came of his death. I was in the yard that day looking after your mother. Jim came to the fence and looked down on us all. The moment I saw him I knew that something was wrong, and when he said, 4 Gillie ’s dead ! ’ there was n’t one of us that did n’t drop his tail. You were born the next day.

“And you say,” pursued Brian, grimly, “that Mr. Davis was a hard master. I know all about Mr. Davis. Your father said : 4 A kinder master one could n’t have. It was a pleasure to [ 22 ]

obey him.’ A hard master ? Shaun, he came here one day, and sat down there in the house, and called me to him. 4 Brian,’ he said, 4 Gillie ’s dead ! Old dog, my heart is sore. Where shall I get such another?’ And Shaun, there were tears in his eyes. Don’t you know we picked you out for him ? ”

Shaun shivered all up and down his spine, but his back was now turned and he said nothing.

44 One of Gillie’s pups was to go to Mr. Davis,” went on Brian. 44 W e heard Jim saying so. We picked you out for him, your mother and I ; we trained you up for him. Jim saw it, and so he took the mother’s choice, as he always does. And now — Larry ’s a good dog, but he ’s the last of the litter.”

44 What do you mean ? ” cried Shaun.

“ Is n’t Mr. Davis coming back for ♦ me?”

“ For Larry.”

“ And I — and I — ” gasped Shaun.

Brian answered solemnly, “ You will stay here the rest of your life. Jim never lets a dog go out twice.”

Shaun screamed with sudden fright.

IV

W HAT human beings express by weeping and wailing and wringing of hands, Shaun showed in his own way for many hours. He yelped, he barked, he howled ; he ran up and down beside the pickets ; he scratched at the gate. At midnight his distress was not less. Old Jim got out of his bed and looked in the moonlight at the piteous form. “ He takes it pretty hard,” he said, and he patted Larry before he lay down again.

Near daylight Shaun, exhausted, slept. But his dreams were bad, and he twitched and whimpered in his sleep. The other dogs looked at him soberly, as one by one they awoke ; the puppies got many a lesson that morning. [ 25 ]

Jim came and fed the dogs, and at the noise Shaun awoke. But he made no movement to join them, and Brian at last came and sat down by him.

“Well,” he said cheerfully, “I’ve some breakfast saved for you.”

“ I think,” said Shaun, “ I don’t want any.”

“Prefer something fresh from the gutter ? ”

“ Brian ! ” cried Shaun, unhappily.

Brian couched and lay thinking. “ Your father — ” he said after a while. Shaun’s ears dropped, and he turned his head away.

“Your father,” said Brian, without relenting, “ used to speak so fondly of his home. He used to thank me,” and the old dog’s voice trembled a little, “ for the training I gave him. He used to repeat to the puppies all the max- [26]

ims : 4 Obedience is a dog’s virtue,’ 4 One dog can annoy a whole neighborhood,’ ‘A good home is more than everything,’ and then again, 4 Whatever comes of it, obey.’ He used to say a good many things may not seem to pay — waiting at doors, not eating, not barking, coming when you’re called. But they do pay, just the same, when you find your master loves you. Mr. Davis, Shaun — ”

44 Don’t ! ” cried Shaun.

44 Mr. Davis cared. He said, when he left you yesterday, that he ’d done his best with you. If you had noticed, you ’d have seen how much he cared.”

44 Don’t ! don’t ! ” cried Shaun.

44 And now,” went on Brian, 44 you ’ll grow to be just like Nip here, fat and cross, and somewhat stupid. A gentle- [ 27 ]

man tried him once and could n’t keep him.”

“ Don’t ! ” cried Shaun. “ Don’t ! oh, don’t ! It kills me. Oh, how could I forget ? ”

And Jim, again looking out of the window, said, “There’s Shaun at it once more.” He lifted Larry up to look.

V

I T was the second morning. Shauns second night had been quieter ; for he went to sleep before midnight. But again he refused his breakfast.

“You needn’t talk to me any more about it all,” he said to Brian, when the old dog came and sat by him again. “ I think I understand now.”

“ Have I been unkind ? ” asked Brian. “ You had to be, I suppose. None of the other dogs have taken any notice of me since I came.”

That was according to Brian’s orders. And yet, thought the old dog, what was the use ? Shaun’s life was spoiled. He would have no chance to show his repentance.

Suddenly Shaun jumped up. “ Brian, Jim has left the gate open ! ”

“Well,” said Brian, calmly, “none of the puppies will run away.”

Shaun grew excited. “ I w r ill run away ! ”

“ Why — ” said Brian, “I — ” He hesitated between duty to his master and affection for a favorite grandchild ; but Shaun waited for no permission. He slipped out the gate.

“ I must go,” he said. “ Good-bye.” He dared not wait, but began at once to move away. Brian called out to him one direction before he disappeared, — “ Inquire of other dogs.” Then Shaun was gone.

Once in the street he was like a chip upon the sea. Strange dogs ran at him and growled. He avoided them only to meet others. This was no time to [ 30 ]

fight ; besides, no dog has a right to fight except upon his own ground. Shaun was weak with thirty-six hours of unhappiness, and from lack of food. How glad he was when he saw a dog that ran with a cart !

64 Please,” he said, 44 oh, please — which way to Concord ? ”

The dog with the cart trotted on, minding his master’s business ; but he responded.

44 Go on to the watering-trough,” he said, 44 then first left, and straight on for miles and miles.”

Shaun obeyed. He found the long turnpike and followed it. First there were houses ; they grew less in number, and he ran between fields, then between tall trees. Then were fields again, then more houses, then another town. A dog ran out at [ 31 ]

him. “ How far to Concord ? ” asked Shaun.

“Woof! Who are you? Woof, woof ! ”

Another dog ran up, and then another. Shaun gave them the slip and passed through the town’s centre, where other dogs came yelping. Lonely, afraid, he ran as for his life, but a recollection came to him. “ This,” he said bitterly, “is what I used to do with Horton’s Snap.”

He passed through the town, then through the long vacant space where no one lived, then through another town, and another, and another. No Concord yet, but in every place he was followed by yelling mongrels. Another town, but not his own, and still the straight road led on. Then at last — surely that house was familiar, and that tree ! Here was his own town — his own street — his own house, with Mr. and Mrs. Davis standing at the door. He crawled to them, pleading, on his wretched little belly. “ Shaun ! ” they cried, and stood speechless.

VI “ so,” said Brian, on the next

l ^ day, “ they ’ve brought you -A J^- back again.”

Shaun’s disappointment was too deep for expression. Brian could get nothing from him — nothing but moans, and tears from the brown eyes. It seemed as if Shaun were heartbroken. “ He ’ll die of it,” said Brian, and old Jim said the same. A day, two days passed, and Shaun began to get thin. Jim bathed him, combed him, brushed him. He brought him the best of food ; Shaun would not touch it. “ He ’ll die, surely,” said Jim.

Brian came to him again and again. Shaun sighed, moaned, and could not respond. But at last, by long per- [ 34 ]

severance, Brian made Shaun talk. 44 Oh,” said the poor creature, 44 if they had only tried me ! I should have been so good ! But my mistress cried when 1 cried ; sometimes I think of that, and it comforts me — a little. If I could only see her again ! ”

Brian was moved. 44 It must have cost her something to send you away, even at first,” he asserted.

Tears trickled down Shaun’s nose. 44 1 know it now,” he said. 44 1 remember now how she kissed me good-bye the first time. And this time, just as we were going away, and she was crying, 4 Oh,’ she said to Mr. Davis, 4 don’t let him come back again. I could n’t bear to part with him a third time.’ ”

44 Then go again ! ” cried Brian.

44 Jim will never let me out,” said [ 35 ]

The Ref 07 in of Shaun

Shaun, sadly. 44 I heard him promise Mr. Davis.”

44 But I can get you out ! ”

Shaun started up. 44 What — now ? ” he demanded.

44 This night,” said Brian. 44 Eat, Shaun — eat and gather strength.”

That night’s moon saw a strange sight. One after another the terriers relieved each other, digging a hole under the pickets. Shaun lay and waited, trembling with hope, while Brian directed the work. When the hole was deep enough, Shaun squeezed through.

44 Good-bye, all,” he said. 44 Good-bye, Brian. You ’ve been kinder to me than T deserve.”

The two rubbed noses through the bars. 44 Good-bye,” said Brian. 44 Good-bye,” said all the others. 44 Good luck this time, Shaun.”

That was a long run in the pale moonlight. The road stretched onward like a silver ribbon, bordered by threatening shadows. Among the woods the darkness seemed full of dangers ; in the towns Shaun feared the barking curs. But no wild beasts came from under the trees, and as he passed through the sleeping towns no one ran at him. At the farms he saw dogs, but they w r ere watch-dogs, vigilant but silent, who let him pass. “ They,” thought Shaun, “ are like the dogs that run with carts.” And as the day broke he reached his own town and his own house. Thankful, humble, afraid of what might happen, he sat at the door and waited for the family to awake.

But while the town stirred into life, and carts began to pass and repass, no [ 37 ]

sound came from within the house. The milkman went by without stopping, and Shaun, wondering, became uneasy. Still he did not dare to bark. He waited longer, till the sun stood high and he could no more contain himself. Then he cried for admittance.

The neighbor’s wife came to the door and looked at him. “ Why,” she said, “there is Mr. Davis’s dog come back again.” She came out and spoke to Shaun. “ Doggie,” she said, “ they ’ve gone. They ’ve gone away for a week.”

“ She does n’t understand,” thought Shaun. “ Perhaps they will come soon. I’ll — I’ll wait.”

VII

HE woman left him, and he lay down, so tired that he almost slept. He was aroused by a voice, impudent and familiar. “ Hullo, Shaun. Back again ? ”

There stood Snap Horton, grinning broadly, his bushy tail waving. “ One on you, Shaun ! ” he said. “ They Ve gone on a vacation ; everybody knows. But never mind ; you sleep with me in our shed, and there’s plenty of food about the town.”

Every fibre of Shaun’s body quivered at the sight of his old intimate — his tempter. He jumped up, growling.

“ Go away ! ” he cried.

Snap started back. “ Shaun ? ”

[» 9 ]

“ Go away ! ” repeated Shaun. “ I hate you ! ” He took a step forward ; his hair was bristling. “ Shall I bite you ? ” Snap was a coward, and he fled.

The long day wore into the long evening. Shaun never left the steps. Toward night he saw a form coming down the street, and knew it for Jack Rogers on his evening rounds. In behind each house, coming out quickly or slowly as he found more or less to eat, occasionally emerging hurriedly as if chased, came the second of Shaun’s old cronies. Shaun watched him with growing shame. Once he had joyously accompanied Jack on these tours of greediness ; now it seemed a small and currish thing to do. Jack knew by experience that there was never anything at the Davis house ; he was trotting [ 40 ]

by when he perceived Shaun. Shaun turned his head away.

But he heard the fawning voice. “ W hy, Shaun, old boy ! So glad to see you back. Folks away, aren’t they? Well, come with me, and we’ll get along together.”

Shaun slowly rose to his feet, and if his legs trembled with weakness, they also trembled with rage. “ See here, Jack Rogers — ”

“Well, Shaun,” said Jack, smoothly, “ if you won’t, you won’t. To-morrow, perhaps.” He trotted on.

The neighbor’s wife came to her door and called him. She had a dish in her hand, and Shaun looked away from the temptation. She came to him and put the dish down near him ; a bowl also.

“ A good bone,” she said, “ and some bread and milk. There, doggie, you look [ 41 ]

hungry. Now eat it all up.” She patted his head and waited to see him begin.

Shaun wagged his tail, but drew back. “ A good dog,” he remembered, “lets only his master feed him.” She pushed the food nearer, and the tempting smells came to his nostrils, but he still drew uncomfortably away. “ It beats all,” she said at last. “ But I ’ll leave them with him.” She went back to her own house.

It was lonesome in the gathering night, terribly lonesome. The presence of the food tempted him, and he withdrew to the lower step. White’s cart went slowly by, with Ceesar following behind. The big dog looked at Shaun, but said nothing and trotted on. When he was out of sight, Shaun wept a few tears. “ He warned me once,” he said.

Night came. When the moon rose Shaun felt the desire to howl, but struggled with it and mastered it. “ One dog can annoy a whole neighborhood.” Mr. Davis had once called him a public nuisance ; he w^ould be one no longer. He paced up and down ; at times he slept fitfully. At last the morning dawned — a dreary day.

Then came Mopsy Frost panting up the street. He seated himself on the lower step.

“ Snap told me he saw you yesterday,” he said in his husky voice. “ A little out of sorts, were n’t you ? He said he expected an apology. Ha ! ha ! ” He paused for answer, but got none. “ I came to offer you a share of something fine that I ’ve found.”

“ Go ! ” cried Shaun.

“ Shaun, when I ’ve fed you so many times ! ”

“ With your food,” said Shaun, bitterly, “ you betrayed me.”

The fat beast got himself off the step. “Well,” he wheezed, “I see Snap was right. I sha’n’t expect an apology.” He went away.

And now Caesar White came again ; but instead of passing, he left his cart and trotted to the steps. Shaun dropped his ears and tail, and looked away. “ Why, Shaun ! ” said Caesar, “ won’t you say good-day ? ”

“ I laughed at you,” muttered Shaun. “ I called you names.”

“ Let ’s forget that,” said Caesar, cheerfully. “ I Ve heard what Snap Horton ’s been saying, and know you ’re different now. You ’re in hard luck. Is there anything I can do ? ”

“ Nothing, I ’m afraid,” said Shaun.

“ My master,” said Caesar, with a little hesitation, as if approaching a delicate subject, “ does n’t give me very much food. He does n’t believe in it. But you’re welcome to half of it. If you’ll come with me to-night — ”

“ Oh,” cried Shaun, much moved, “ I have food here, but I don’t want any.”

“You have kind neighbors,” said Caesar. “ 1 ’m glad you have food.” He looked up the street : his cart was turning the corner. “ W ell, I must be jogging. Good-bye.”

The day dragged on ; Shaun had much to think of, many resolves to make, and an enemy within him, hunger, to conquer. It was hard to resist with the food so close by. To forget it he slept, and dozed away the hours — slept uneasily, with unpleasant dreams.