“If it wasn’t for that leg of father’s that got bitten thirty years ago!” he said. “Speaking of angels, there goes father now. Hold on to your hat, Bob.”
Each boy seized his hat as a sudden gust came sweeping down the street. But papa, who had appeared in view a block ahead of them, walked calmly on, as if assured that no impertinent breeze would dare molest the “Pet and Pride.” He was so confident and careless that the wind could not resist taking him down a little, and lifting the hat whirled it about his head.
The uncovered judge put forth his hand, but the movement was too grave and deliberate; the wind wished to play tag, and it takes two to play at that game, so the judge must be taught how. As the deliberate hand almost reached the hat, off skipped the wind with it, compelling the judge with a stately skip to follow. But he could be taught even swifter motions than those; a second time he almost reached the hat, and it moved on with a hop and a whirl; while he, with something like a hop and a whirl, moved after. But still the hat, so near his hand, was not in it. His indignation rose. He could not allow matters to proceed after this unruly fashion. With a plunge he pounced on his property—when, lo! it lay across the ditch in the dust of the road, while his tormentor laughed at him!
But no, it was not the wind that laughed after all, though it seemed quite human enough to do so—the shrill tones proceeded from three open mouths on the corner. How dare those ragged urchins lift up their voices in derision of a Judge of the Supreme Court! Better, perhaps, to lose the hat than gratify them by pursuing it. But it was his “Pet and Pride”—by no means an inexpensive affair; a city hat, only to be replaced by a day’s journey; and then he might never find such an easy fit again.
After two or three somersets the hat stood still, unhurt, except for a little dust. The wind fell as suddenly as it had risen, and the judge was enabled to recover his property without sacrificing his dignity. At least so he flattered himself as he walked at his usual gait over the ditch, into the road. He had not calculated on another gust; and when the hat was actually snatched almost out of his grasp again, rather than become the sport of those rascals on the corner he decided to let it go, and run the risk of getting it at the next ebb of the wind.
He was turning away when he happened to see near the corner a big, black mud-puddle, lying in wait for unwary victims of the wind. If the wind and water had conspired to tease him they could not have succeeded better. While the hat was blown directly towards the puddle, the water was at the same time lashed upward to show him how black and muddy it was, how totally destructive to hats.
He felt tempted to pursue the “Pet and Pride” at a flying gait; but as he paused to consider the boys on the corner, the mud-puddle lost its terrors in a new object which appeared upon the scene. This was nothing less than a dog that came galloping after the hat with almost the speed of the wind. Better that the “Pet and Pride” should be drowned in the muddiest depths than become a puppy’s plaything, thought the judge. It was too late for him to rescue it by this time. The hat was doomed to the dog or the water—the water he sincerely hoped, as he prepared to seek the nearest store where a covering for his head could be found.
But as he was turning away he observed that the chances were in the dog’s favor. It was wonderful to see those four little paws fly over the ground. They were gaining on the wind, no doubt about it. Gaining, gaining—till the race was so close that one must wait a moment and see it out. “Ah, the rascal has it! No, you little scamp, you’re beaten! You didn’t count on that gust, sir!”
But as the judge so soliloquized, a familiar voice behind him shouted, “Fly, Duke, fly!” With a leap those four winged feet overtook the gust; and there stood the dog at the edge of the mud-puddle, carefully holding the “Pet and Pride” in his teeth.
The judge recognized that “ugly little dog of Bob’s” at the same time that he recognized his son’s voice; and presently he discovered that the race had been run not for his torment, nor for mere amusement, but for the purpose of rescuing and restoring his property.