A Terrible Tomboy

by Angela Brazil

'Under the wide and starry sky
Dig the grave, and let him lie.
Glad did he live, and gladly die,
And he laid him down with a will.'

Rollo, now grown into a fine dog of a year old, remained Peggy's favourite among all her numerous pets. Though she had not again tried him for a bedfellow, he was still the companion of her walks, and the most winsome playmate on wet days, and Peggy firmly believed that he understood every word she said to him. He was growing clever with the sheep, too, and Father hoped to be able to train him into a really valuable collie, even hinting that he might in time gain a prize at the annual sheep-dog contests which were held for the district of Gorswen and the Welsh border. Peggy liked to see Rollo working with the sheep, the tips of his ears twitching and his faithful brown eyes bright with intelligence, as he cleverly sorted the lambs which Father had pointed out from the rest of the flock, and drove them neatly into the enclosure, coming up whimpering with pride for the praise which he knew awaited his efforts.

One lovely April morning Peggy started off alone, on the ostensible errand of going to pay half a crown which was owing to old Williams, the mole-catcher, but the more real one of gathering primroses and hunting about for birds' nests. It was seldom that she was separated from Bobby, who was as constant as her shadow, but to-day he had preferred to stay and work in his garden, having many designs for its improvement, while the holidays were waning only too fast. Peggy had whistled for Rollo, but he was not to be found, and it was only when she was more than half-way down the pasture that he came racing after her as hard as he could tear, nearly knocking her down in the exuberance of his joy.

Instead of walking along the high-road, Peggy determined to take the path through the fields which skirted the preserves belonging to Lord Hazelford's estate, for the finest primroses grew at the edge of the wood, and the earliest bluebells, and many a snug little nest might be found hidden away in those quiet hedgerows. It was a glorious morning, with the larks singing overhead and the thrushes trilling in the bushes, and that delicious smell of the earth which we often notice in early spring, and which makes the blood run through our veins like rising sap. The trees were clothed with the pale, tender green of April, and a cuckoo, the first of the year, flew out of the copse, and, cuckooing loudly, sped over to where the larch-trees were bursting out into a crowd of tassels. Peggy had no pocket in her dress, but she turned the half-crown in her hand for good luck, and hoped it might answer the same purpose. Rollo was almost as happy as his mistress. He poked his nose into all the rabbit-burrows, he chased the birds, and dug holes for rats, and generally behaved as if he were a puppy again, instead of a sedate, grown-up dog, snapping at the flies, and standing over Peggy wagging his tail in approval, while she gathered violets and wood-anemones.

The path which Peggy was following ran along a lane with the wood on one side and a tall hedge on the other. It was a lonely spot, for there was not even a farmhouse in sight, and as it was only a by-road it was very seldom frequented, even by the country people. As she swung the gate open, and passed from the field into the lane, she saw a sight which for a moment made her hang back doubtfully, for a tramp lay stretched out full length asleep in the sunshine, his tattered clothes and broken boots a strange contrast to the bed of white daisies and celandine upon which he lay. Peggy was not generally afraid of poor people, but even in sleep this man had an evil, hang-dog look about his face, which might have warned many an older person to give him a wide berth. She stood for a little while with the gate in her hand, hesitating whether to go forward or not, then, thinking she could probably pass him quietly without waking him, she walked on, treading on tip-toe. But he could not have been so fast asleep as she supposed, for he sprang up as she neared him, and casting a swift glance round to see whether she were accompanied or alone, held out his hand, and begged for money.

'I have none to give you,' said Peggy, trying to pass him by; but he stood over the path before her with a blustering air.

'No money! What's that in your hand?' he said roughly.

Peggy put her hand under her dress, and tried to beat a retreat to the gate.

'Now then!' cried the man, with a horrible oath, 'none of your slinking off! You give me what you have there, or I'll break every bone in your body, and worse! Here! Hand it over, quick!'

He came a step nearer, but at that moment there was a rush and a rustle, and Rollo bounded like an arrow through the gate, and flew at his throat. The two rolled over together, and Peggy clung trembling to the gatepost as she watched the confused heap at her feet, Rollo scratching, snarling, and biting like a wild beast, and the tramp kicking, fighting, and swearing in a way which made her blood go cold to hear. She was too terrified to run away, and could only stand there, a breathless witness of the scuffle. Now the dog had the mastery, and now the man, as each panted and fought for his life; but at length something bright gleamed in the sunlight, there was a cry of agony, and Rollo lay in a pool of blood upon the grass. The tramp raised himself slowly up, and looked at Peggy. Peggy shrieked, such a shriek of ghastly terror that it might have been heard a mile away, and mercifully it was heard, for there was an answering call from the wood, followed by a rustle of branches and dead leaves, and the keeper and his son burst through the thick undergrowth, and came scrambling over the fence, almost before the echo of her cry had died away. The tramp took to his heels, and was off down the lane with sturdy Harry Adams racing after him, in less time than it takes to tell it.