My children, I travelled many and many a thousand miles with master after that both by sea and by land, but never again did he insult my _amour propre_ by putting me in a creel.

At this moment Lizzie and Tom joined the group of old friends on the lawn. Tom threw himself down on the gra.s.s, and began to twine the garland of gowans he had been making around the neck of Vee-Vee, the Pomeranian dog.

Vee-Vee was Tom's favourite, and never a night would the boy go to bed without him.

No, Vee-Vee did not sleep _in_ the bed, but on a couch in the same cosy little room. He was exceedingly fond of the boy, a proof that love begets love, and of course the doggie would be always first awake in the morning, but he would not stir until Tommy did. As soon, however, as the little lad sighed, his first waking sigh, Vee-Vee jumped joyfully up on the bed, and his delight was simply wonderful.

How nice to be awakened thus by one who loves you, even if it be but a dog.

Vee-Vee was quite as rapturous in the welcome with which he used to greet Tommy's home-coming, if he happened to be away all day.

During the lad's absence the dog would refuse all food, and simply lie in the hall with eyes open and ears erect until he heard his little master's voice or footstep; then he would spring up quite beside himself with joy, his bark having a kind of half hysterical ring in it, as if tears were hindering its clearer utterance.

Vee-Vee now seemed rejoiced to get the garland of gowans. It was a mark of favour on the part of Tommy that he acknowledged by licking his hands and cheek.

Meanwhile Lizzie had brought out a rug to place on the gra.s.s, that she might sit thereon, and so save herself from the damp.

As she was spreading it on the green sward something tumbled out.

That something was Chammy.

"Oh, Chammy, Chammy!" cried Lizzie delighted, "we thought you were dead.

Where _will_ you hide next?"

But Chammy gathered himself slowly up and crawled away, one leg at a time, to look for a fly.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

"WHEN THE FUR BEGINS TO FLY."

n.o.body had ever been heard to call Cracker a pretty dog or a bonnie dog.

He was st.u.r.dy and strong, and nearly, if not quite, as large as a Collie. His legs were as straight as darts, and as strong as the sapling pine tree. Then his coat--ah! well, there is no way of describing that with pen and ink or in print either. It was rough though not s.h.a.ggy, and every hair was as hard apparently as pin-wire.

In the matter of coats, in fact, Nature had, while dressing Cracker, adhered to the useful rather than the ornamental. He had apparently come in the afternoon for his coat, and nearly all the other dogs had been before him. Collie had been fitted with his flowing toga, the Poodle with his cords and ta.s.sels, the Yorkshire terrier with his doublet of silk, and many others with coats as soft and smooth as that of a carriage horse, and poor Cracker, the Airedale terrier, had almost been forgotten.

"Your coat, Cracker?" Nature had said. "Oh, certainly. I'm really afraid, however, that you have come rather late in the day to be dressed with anything like elegance."

"Oh!" Cracker had put in, "I ain't a bit particular. Anything'll do for Cracker, so as it is thick enough to keep out a shower with a shake."

So Nature had simply gathered up the sweepings of the shop, the cabbage and clippings, so to speak, and mixed them all up into a kind of shoddy, and dabbed Cracker all over with that, going in, however, for a few finishing touches of gold about the muzzle, the chest, and legs.

And good honest Cracker had given himself a shake, and said, "This'll do famous," then trotted off to do his duty and his work, which, to his credit be it said, every dog of this breed knows well how to get through.

Well, one sunshiny day, when the old friends, including even Chammy, who was lying in the limb of a dwarf holly, were a.s.sembled on Uncle Ben's lawn, Ben himself and the Colonel blowing clouds in their straw chairs, and Lizzie lying with a book in Ben's hammock, who should come through the gateway but towsy Cracker himself.

He was a brave dog this, and just as modest as brave, for the two good qualities always go hand-in-hand. So he advanced in a bashful, hesitating kind of way, as if he felt he ought to apologise for his presence on the lawn at all, but didn't know exactly how to begin. He was smiling too, a very broad smile that seemed to extend halfway down both sides.

Vee-Vee and Warlock jumped up at once growling and barking, and ready to defend the family circle with their lives if there was any occasion, but seeing it was only Cracker, they ran to meet him, and give him a hearty welcome.

Then Cracker advanced, shaking his droll old stump of a tail, and Shireen herself arose and rubbed her back against his legs.

"No," she said, "you certainly don't intrude, Cracker, and we only wish you would come oftener than you do."

"Well, seeing as that's the case," said Cracker, "I'll make one this afternoon at your little garden party. But I'm not much used to refined society, I bet you. More at home in a stable than in a drawing-room; the riverside and moor or the forest is more in old Cracker's way than fountain, lawn, and shrubbery. But, la! Shireen, whatever is that lying along that branch? It isn't a big snail and it ain't a large slug, sometimes grey and sometimes green. Well, of all the ugly--"

"It's a friend of ours," said Shireen, interrupting Cracker, "and, I a.s.sure you, Chammy won't hurt anything or anybody except the flies and mealworms."

"Well, well," said Cracker, "wonders 'll never cease, but if I had met a beast like that in the woods, I'd have bolted quick, you bet, and never turned tail till safe in my kennel again."

"And now, Mother Shireen, let us have some more of your story," said Vee-Vee.

"Ah! yes," said Tabby; "but what a pity Cracker didn't hear the first part."

Well, said Shireen, we arrived at Portsmouth, I and my master as safe as anything, and after dinner proceeded on board.

The _Hydra_ was the name of the war ship on which we were to sail for India's distant sh.o.r.e. She was a fine craft of the kind human beings call a corvette. I was not long in perceiving that she carried many long black guns, but was glad to learn soon after my arrival, that as we were going to make a very quick pa.s.sage out to Bombay, these awful guns would hardly ever be fired.

The _Hydra_ was much larger than the old _Venom_, had fine open decks, and tall, raking masts, with a low, wide funnel of jet, up which went the crimson copper steampipe. Her decks were as white as ivory, and I could see my face in the polished woodwork, to say nothing of the bra.s.s that shone like gold.

I trotted along by my master's side towards the quarter-deck.

Captain Beecroft in uniform, and looking young and happy, came forward with a smile to bid us welcome.

"So you haven't parted with your beautiful cat?" said the captain, as we walked to the companion.

"No, Beecroft, nothing, I hope, will ever part me from her."

"I wonder," said Beecroft, "if she'll remember her old pal, the hero, Tom Brandy."

"What? Have you still got Tom?"

"Yes. It isn't likely I'd sail without black Tom. That would be to throw away my luck, you know, and I'd never become an Admiral."

"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed master; "but how superst.i.tious sailors are!"

"And some soldiers too, ain't they? ha, ha!"

Then both laughed, and Beecroft led the way to his quarters, a sentry at the door saluting as we pa.s.sed by.

I declare to you, children, when I saw honest Tom Brandy lying there on a skin rug in front of the stove--for it was almost winter now, and very cold--you could have knocked me down with a sledge hammer.

I felt all over in a whirl with joy, and for a moment I didn't know whether my top or my toes were uppermost.

Tom jumped up with a fond cry, and ran to meet me, and the two of us ran round and round the table in order to allay our feelings, like a pair of three-month-old kittens.

But we both settled down on the skin in a few minutes, and commenced singing a duet together, to the accompaniment of a coffee-urn that simmered above the stove.