Jewel's Story Book Part 27

The boys backed away with their prize. "Nothing for nothing," said the taller, who had the animal under his arm. "What'll you give us?"

Gabriel thought. Never lived a boy with fewer possessions. Ah! He suddenly remembered a whistle he had made yesterday. Diving his hand into his pocket he brought it out and whistled a lively strain upon it.

"This," he said, approaching. "I'll give you this."

"That for one of us," replied the tall boy. "What for the other?"

From the moment the dog heard Gabriel's voice, its eyes had appealed to him. Now it struggled to get free, and the big boy struck it. Its cry sharpened Gabriel's wits.

"The other shall have a penny," he said, and drew Mother Lemon's coin out of his blouse.

The big boy dropped the dog, and he and his companion struggled for the coin, each willing the other should have the whistle. Gabriel lost no time in catching up the dog and making off with it.

He did not stop running until he had reached a spot by the brookside, hidden amid sheltering trees. Here he sat down and looked over the forlorn specimen in his lap. The dog was a rough, dingy object from its long ears to its tail.

First of all, Gabriel set to work to get out the burrs that stuck fast in the thick coat. This took a long time, but the little dog licked his hands gratefully now and then, showing that he understood, even if the operation was not always pleasant.

"Now, comrade," said Gabriel, at last, "you'll have to stand a ducking."

The dog's beautiful golden eyes looked at him trustfully, and Gabriel, placing him in the brook, scrubbed him well, long ears and all, and then raced around with him in the warm air until he was dry.

What a transformation was there! Gabriel's eyes shone as he looked at his purchase. The dog's long hair, which had been a dingy brown, shone now like golden silk in the sunshine, and his eyes gleamed with the light of topazes as they fixed lovingly on Gabriel's happy face; for Gabriel _was_ happy, as every one is who sees Love work what is called a miracle, but what is really not a miracle at all, but just one of the beautiful, happy changes for the better that follow on Love, wherever she goes. The boy's lonely heart leaped at the idea that at last he had a companion.

A despised little suffering dog had altered into a welcome playmate, too attractive, perhaps, to keep; for Gabriel well knew that he would never be permitted to take the dog home; and any one finding him now in the woods could carry him into town and get a good price for him.

"What shall I call you, little one?" asked the boy. "My word, but you are lively," for the dog was bounding about so that his ears flew and flapped around like yellow curls.

"Topaz, you shall be!" cried Gabriel, suddenly realizing how gem-like were the creature's eyes; "and now listen to me!"

To his amazement, as the boy said "Listen," and raised his finger, Topaz at once sat up on his hind legs with his dainty white forepaws hung in front of him.

"Whew!" and Gabriel began whistling a little tune in his amazement, and the instant the dog heard the music he began to dance. What a sight was there!

Gabriel's eyes grew round as he saw Topaz advance and retreat and twirl, occasionally nodding and tossing his head until his curls bobbed. He seemed to long, in his warm little dog's heart, to show Gabriel that he had been worth saving.

But the radiance died from the boy's face and he sank at last on the ground under a tree, looking very dejected.

Topaz bounded to his lap and Gabriel pulled the long silky ears through his hands thoughtfully.

"I thought I had found a companion," he said sadly.

"Bow-wow," responded Topaz.

"But you are a trick dog, worth n.o.body knows how much money, and I cannot keep you!"

"Bow-wow," said Topaz.

"To-morrow I must begin to try to find your master. Meanwhile what am I to do with you?" The boy rose as he spoke and Topaz showed plainly that there was no doubt in _his_ mind as to what should be done with him, for he meant to stick closely to Gabriel's heel.

The boy suddenly had an idea and began to trudge st.u.r.dily off in the direction of Mother Lemon's cottage, Topaz following close. The memory of the latter's recent mishaps was too clear in his doggish mind to make him willing that a single bush should come between him and his protector.

When they reached the little cottage, Mother Lemon sat spinning outside her low doorway.

"Welcome, my man," she said when she finally saw, by squinting into the sunlight, who it was that approached, "but drive off that dog."

"Look at him, Mother Lemon," said Gabriel, rather sadly. "Saw you ever one so handsome?"

"Looks are deceiving," returned the old woman, "and I have a cat."

"I will see that he does not hurt your cat. I have to confess that I spent your penny for him, Mother Lemon."

"Then I have to confess that you are no worthy son of your father,"

returned the old woman, "for he would not have spent it for anything."

"I know it was a keepsake," replied Gabriel, "but the dog was in danger of his life and I had no other money to give for him."

"You are a good-hearted lad," said Mother Lemon, going on with her spinning. "Now take your dog away, for if my cat, Tommy, should see him it might go hard with his golden locks."

"Alas, Mother Lemon, I have come to ask you to keep him for me."

"La, la! I tell you I could not keep him any longer than until Tommy laid eyes on him; neither have I any liking for dogs, myself, though that one, I must say, looks as if he had taken a bath in molten gold."

"Does he not!" returned Gabriel. "When first I saw him some boys were misusing him and he seemed to be but a brown cur with a dingy, matted coat; and I could wish that he had turned out to be of no account, for the look in his eyes took hold upon my heart; but I rubbed him well in the brook, and now see the full, feathery tail and silky ears. He is a dog of high degree."

"Certain he is, lad," replied the old woman. "Take him to the town and sell him to some lofty dame who has nothing better to do than brush his curls."

"I would never sell him," said Gabriel, regarding the dog wistfully. "He is lonely and so am I. We would stick together if we might."

"What prevents? Do you fear to take him home lest your father boil him down for his gold?" and Mother Lemon laughed as she spun.

"No. My father, I know, would not give him one night's lodging, and in my perplexity I bethought me to ask you the favor," and Gabriel's honest eyes looked so squarely at Mother Lemon that she stopped her wheel. "I cannot keep the dog," continued the boy, "and my heart is heavy."

"Your father is a curmudgeon," declared the old woman, for the more she looked at Gabriel, the more she loved him. "What is it? Would he grudge food for your pet?"

"It is not that, but I cannot keep the dog in any case."

"Why not, pray?"

For answer Gabriel looked down into the topaz eyes whose regard had scarcely left his face during the interview. He held up his finger, and instantly the dog sat up.

"'Tis a trick dog!" exclaimed Mother Lemon.

Gabriel began to whistle, and the dance commenced. The old woman pressed her side as she laughed at the comical, pretty sight of the little dancer, the fluffy golden threads of whose silky coat gleamed in the sunlight.

"Your fortune is made," said Mother Lemon as Gabriel ceased. "The dog will fetch a large price in the town, and because you are a good lad I will try to keep him for you until to-morrow, when you can go and sell him. If your father saw his tricks he would, himself, dispose of him and pocket the cash. I will shut him in an outhouse until you come again, and I only hope that he will not bark and vex Tommy!"

To the old woman's surprise Gabriel looked sad. "But you see, Mother Lemon," he said soberly, "the dog already belongs to somebody."

"La, la!" cried the old woman. "Why, then, couldn't the somebody keep him?"