Bruno Part 8

We went out and prepared a warm bed for it in the wood-shed back of the house. It seemed quite satisfied with this arrangement, and settled down cosily as we left it and returned to our fireside. We spent this evening and night as we had the previous one, and were aroused very early in the morning by the sound of Juanita's impatient little hoofs on the porch floor. I had just finished feeding her and Bruno, when I heard the gate-latch click. I looked out. A colored girl was coming up the walk.

"Mawnin', Lady," she said; "ole Miss hyud our deer was hyuh. _Dah_ you is, you good-f'-nuffin' ole runaway! Thanky, Lady. Come on, Billy!" And hitting _him_ a resounding slap on the back, she went off, accompanied by our romantic Juanita, transformed into meek and prosy Billy.

Thus perish our illusions!

Bruno was inclined to resent this unceremonious taking off of our pet, and began to growl; but as soon as I recovered from the mingled emotions which at first had rendered me speechless, I realized from Billy's actions that he and the colored girl were old friends; so I silenced him by saying,--

"Never mind, Boonie, it wasn't our deer; it only came for a little visit, and now it's going home." Then we stood watching graceful Billy and his uncouth companion till they disappeared through the old City Gates.

Late that evening, Bruno having had his supper, I sat by the fire sipping a cup of chocolate, and thinking those tender, half-melancholy thoughts we are apt to have at twilight when separated from those beloved.

All at once I heard the gate click. Bruno sprang up, thrilled and alert.

A footstep on the walk--ah, Bruno knew it, even before I did, and was so eager to get out that he almost held the door shut in his excitement. We finally got it open, and there, weary, eager, and travel-stained, was Julius! Before his lips reached my face, I mentally exclaimed,--

"How glad I am that Bruno and I have stayed here, instead of leaving a shut-up house, where he would have to drop his bag and start out to look for us!"

That moment, when I felt his arms around me and heard his words of joy mingled with Bruno's ecstatic yelps, paid for all of our endless, lonely hours. I dare say there was not in all the world a happier group of three than sat before our open fire that night.

Every time Bruno dozed, he would awaken with a start, and go to sniff and paw at Julius to make sure it wasn't a dream, that he really had come back to us.

Julius reported his business successfully concluded; a change in one of the time-tables had enabled him to get back sooner than we had dared to hope.

The next day I received his letter, telling me to look for him by the train on which he had come the night before!

In those days our mail not infrequently took an ocean voyage on its way from one Florida town to another quite near by, so we were never surprised at anything in the mail line,--except a prompt delivery!

CHAPTER XIV

It was shortly after the events related in the last chapter that we came to a final decision against the various business openings we had been investigating in St. Augustine, and concluded to go on to Jacksonville.

We disposed of the few things we had bought for our little cottage, and when we again found ourselves on the train with our household goods, I gave us both a fit of merriment by quoting the words of poor little Joe in "Bleak House,"--

"Wisht I may die if I ain't a-movin' on."

It was by this time mid-season, and Jacksonville was full of tourists.

It was then very popular as a winter resort, Southern Florida was not much known; so we had some difficulty in finding a place to live.

We decided to get just one room somewhere, and board at a restaurant till the city emptied so we could secure a cottage.

The first room we found that would do, was too far from the business part of town; so we took it for only a month, and kept on looking. We heard of one, at last, which seemed close to everything. It proved to be large, lofty, and pleasant, with a glimpse of the river from its front windows.

The house was well recommended to us by the few business acquaintances Julius had made, though they all confessed that such places were constantly changing hands and inmates and that it was hard to keep up with them. Time pressed, and nothing better offered; so we moved in. It was entirely bare; so we bought some furniture, and, as it was rather a long room for its breadth, we managed, with a screen or two, to make it seem like three rooms.

When all was in place, it was really quite inviting. I had a small lamp stove, so we need only go out for dinners. We began to feel more settled than for a long time, especially, as Julius had in the meantime found a business opening which was entirely satisfactory. We saw nothing at all of the other lodgers; but this did not disturb us, as we were in no hurry to make acquaintances. We felt that it was best to be circ.u.mspect in a city of this size and make-up.

Our evenings were our pleasantest times, sitting on either side of the reading-lamp, with Bruno stretched at our feet; so I was inclined to object one evening, when Julius announced at dinner that he had promised to give a few hours to helping a young friend of his to straighten out his accounts. He had promised, though; so I had to yield. He set off betimes, so as to be home earlier. I locked the door after him, as I always did, and began to make myself as comfortable as possible for a quiet hour or two, with a new magazine.

Before I had finished cutting the leaves, I was struck with surprise at Bruno's actions. He crept in a very stealthy manner to the door, and stood there in an att.i.tude of listening, with every nerve and muscle tense.

I watched him a minute, and then asked,--

"What is it, Boonie?"

He did not look around; he waved his tail once or twice, then resumed his tense pose. Thoroughly surprised, I went softly to him, and stood also listening. I could hear nothing but a faint rustling, a suppressed whispering, and the soft click of a latch. I touched Bruno's head; he looked up at me, and I saw he was holding his lip between his side-teeth, as he had a way of doing when he was very much puzzled or excited.

I tried to coax him away from the door, but he refused to come. I made sure the bolt was shot, and then sat down at a little distance to watch him. There was a door in the middle of one side of the room, which, when we took possession, we had found to be nailed up. We utilized the recess with the aid of some draperies, as a place to hang clothing. Bruno went to this door, thrusting his head in among the clothes.

He listened there for a long time, probably ten minutes; he returned again to the other door; then he gave a low growl, followed by several half-suppressed barks, and lay down against it.

I forgot all about my book, and sat watching to see what he would do next. The evening seemed endless. At last I heard Julius below in the hall; Bruno sprang up when I opened the door, and went clattering down the stairs to escort him up. It was not late, only about ten. I at once told Julius of the queer evening we had spent, and had the satisfaction of seeing him as thoroughly puzzled as I had been. We sat until a late hour discussing it, then gave it up as something quite beyond us.

About three o'clock in the morning we were awakened by an alarm of fire. The room was full of light, and when we looked out of the window we found that it was close by--only about two squares away. It was a big blaze and, as it was on the opposite side of the street, we had a fine view of it. I was terribly frightened. My uneasiness earlier in the evening had unnerved me, and this terrible fire so near us upset me completely. A fire fills me with horror, especially if it breaks out in the night: it always reminds me of the burning of a big steamer that happened one awful night in my tenth year.

I watched the flames, fascinated by their lurid splendor;--imagining that the three white pigeons which had been awakened by the light and were circling around the tower of smoke--now hidden by it, and now silhouetted against it--were the souls of those who had perished in the flames. Overcome by horror, I finally exclaimed:--

"Suppose it had been this big building that had caught fire!"

"But it wasn't," said Julius.

"No: but it might have been. I don't like this at all. I want to be in a little house by ourselves, close to the ground."

"Yes, it would be better," said Julius, who saw by the light of the flames how pale I had become, and noted how I was trembling. "It will not do to have you so terrified: we'll make a change at once. But it will be difficult to find a house until the tourists begin to scatter."

We thoroughly discussed the situation, and by breakfast-time had reached a decision.

I was to return to Lemonville for a stay of a week or two, and while there to see to the packing and shipping of a piano we had left in storage. Julius meanwhile was to find a cottage, and have our belongings transferred to it. We did not like the arrangement very well, but it seemed to be the only thing we could do.

Thus ended our experience as lodgers.

I was gone two weeks. It was pleasant to meet old friends, after a separation long enough to have plenty of news to exchange, without having had time to lose interest in each other's affairs, but my heart was back in Jacksonville.

Julius and I wrote to each other every day, but the mails were so tedious and uncertain that we usually got each other's letters by threes or fours, with days full of anxiety and heart-ache between.

I still have the package of letters received then. I have just been reading them over again. Bruno pervades them all. It is--

"Took Bruno with me to the office to-day, he begged so hard when I started to leave him; it's lonely for him, poor fellow!"

And--

"While I ate breakfast, I had the waiter put up a good lunch for Boonie; he's getting tired of biscuit, and I don't like to give him raw bones."

On Sunday,--

"I took Bruno a long walk in the suburbs to-day. It did him a lot of good."