'Willie. Try Willie. Give the little chap a chance. By Jove, Jim, he'll win it, I feel it right here,' and he banged his chest with his fist.

CHAPTER XII

MAINLY CONCERNING A DOG

'It's asking too much of the lad,' said Jim Dennis, in reply to the doctor's suggestion to 'Put Willie up.' 'He's only twelve, and you can't expect him to have the head of a man.'

'But that is just what he has when he is on a horse,' commented Dr Tom.

'The little chap is a splendid rider, and as cool as his dad, which is saying a lot. He'll take a pride in riding Neptune, and Ashworth himself would not frighten the little chap. No, Jim, you can take my word for it, he has an old head on his young shoulders, and if you put him up he will do both himself and the horse justice.'

The doctor's argument coincided with Jim's inclinations, and he did not require much persuading.

'Ride back with me to Wanabeen,' said Jim, 'and we'll break it gently to him. It will be great news for him. He'll not believe it at first.'

'Oh, yes, he will,' said Dr Tom. 'Not believe it! He'll be only too proud to believe it. There's only one thing I envy you of, Jim, and that is the possession of such a lad as Willie. I'm not a marrying man, but I would give a good deal to possess a little chap like him.'

'Shocking, doctor. You ought to know better. Consider your morals,'

laughed Jim.

'Oh, you dry up. You know exactly what I mean. I want a companion, such as the lad is to you. I sit and talk for hours at a stretch at my medicine bottles and old Baalim down there,' and he pointed to a sleepy-looking old dog snoring in a corner, half-dingo, half-kangaroo dog, and a dash of other breeds thrown in.

'I'll find you a better dog than that,' said Jim, with a quiet smile, knowing that any reflection cast upon Baalim's character would be indignantly repudiated by his owner.

'Find me a better dog!' exclaimed Dr Tom. 'Where is there a better dog?

I wouldn't part with Baalim, not for money down to the extent of volume one of my bad debts library. That dog, let me tell you, Jim Dennis, is a marvel of intelligence. He's a humorous dog. He's about the only dog I ever knew who appreciated my violin playing. I have never known him howl when I am manipulating that instrument.'

'He must be extraordinarily patient,' said Jim. 'Perhaps he has no ear for music.'

'I have no wish to quarrel with you, Jim Dennis,' said Dr Tom, with a lordly air. 'Perhaps you have not heard my latest composition,' and he went off in the direction of his violin-case.

'I am afraid I must be going,' said Jim, innocently.

Dr Tom turned round sharply and said,--

'I'm sure you will like it.'

'I'll take it for granted,' said Jim. 'Please don't rob Baalim of his legitimate amus.e.m.e.nt. If that dog can stand your violin playing, Dr Tom, I'd never part with him; no other member of the canine race would ever put up with it.'

'I have composed an "Ode to Spring,"' said Dr Tom.

'I should have thought you were owed quite enough without piling up additional debts,' said Jim.

'Seize him, Baalim,' shouted the doctor.

Baalim raised his head, yawned, licked his fore paws one by one, turned over and snarled.

'How long have you had that dog?' questioned Jim, anxious to keep the doctor away from the violin-case.

'Several years. He arrived here one morning casually, on his own account. I shall never forget the inquiring look on his face as he came up those steps. It was the sort of look which conveyed the impression that he was thinking, "I wonder what kind of boots he wears and if he kicks hard?" It was not exactly a frightened look, but the glance of a dog that had seen a good deal of the slings and arrows, I think--the arrows of outrageous fortune. He didn't ask to remain, but he demanded his breakfast in such an appealing manner that I fed him. From that day to this he has never left me. He is a faithful companion, and his breed may be defined as "various." Moreover, he is an a.s.s of a dog, that's why I call him Baalim.'

'Has he many good qualities?' asked Jim.

'He's full of good qualities, but he's a fool to himself. Instead of seeking repose on his mat, he circulates round the Creek on knight-errant adventures. He has fought every dog in Swamp Creek singly and in batches. He not only gets himself into trouble, but he drags me into it along with him. The number of excuses I have made for that dog's behaviour would surprise you. I believe he is grateful. Baalim, are you grateful?'

The dog slowly rose from his rec.u.mbent position and waddled up to Dr Tom. He placed his big, s.h.a.ggy head on the doctor's knee, and looked up into his face. If ever a dog wished to express grat.i.tude in a canine way it was Baalim at that moment.

'What an ugly beggar he is,' said Jim; 'but he looks a real good dog.'

Baalim was ugly, and he seemed to glory in it. He was unlike all other dogs. He had a dirty, yellowish-brown coat, his hair was uneven, it seemed to stick out of him in shreds and patches. His body was long and his legs were short, stumpy, and out of proportion. His tail was useful for whipping off flies, and it resembled the thick part of a stock whip lash. His head was wolfish in shape, and when he smiled, as dogs will smile at strangers, his teeth were ominous. His eyes were the best part of him. They were expressive, and he talked to Dr Tom with them, or, to be more correct, through them, in a most interesting way.

Baalim was a shrewd dog, and he was a bit of a diplomatist. He was an adept at the art of creating quarrels and of patching them up. In his perambulations round the Creek with Dr Tom he found much to interest and amuse him.

When the doctor was attending a patient, Baalim attended to the patient's dog, and these attentions generally ended in a dispute.

He was a particular dog, and after the doctor he bestowed his affections upon Jim Dennis and Constable Doonan.

When Baalim was left in charge of Dr Tom's sanctum no man dare enter it.

Any attempt to do so would have been followed by serious consequences.

'Ride back with me, and ask Baalim to attend us,' said Jim.

'He wants a run; it will do him good. Take some of the fat off him.'

'Then you'll return with me?' asked Jim.

'Yes, and take the dog with me. He'll amuse Willie for an hour or two.'

'And to pa.s.s the time he can have a battle royal with Towser in the back yard,' said Jim.

Dr Tom shouted for his boy to saddle his horse, and the black fellow soon brought it round to the front.

They were not long before starting, and in due course arrived at Wanabeen.

Willie was out somewhere, and Sal went in search of him. She was not long in finding him, and when the lad heard Dr Tom was there he was overjoyed.

The doctor was as pleased to see him as Willie was to greet him.

'There's some good news for you, Willie,' said Dr Tom.

'What is it?' asked the boy, eagerly.

'How would you like to ride in a race, a real race, not a helter-skelter race with your dad? A dozen horses or more, my lad, and the colours up, and the people shouting and cheering and yelling themselves hoa.r.s.e.'

'That would be grand,' he replied; 'but it's too good to be true.'