“May I inquire how you propose to prevent the impending catastrophe?” asked superciliously the moustached gentleman to whom we have before alluded.
“You shall see directly,” returned Lewis, divesting himself of his coat, waistcoat, and neckcloth.
“I presume you are aware there is not one man in a hundred who could swim that distance in his clothes,” resumed the speaker in the same sneering tone. “Do you actually—I merely ask as a matter of curiosity—do you really consider it worth while to peril your life for that of a dog?”
“For such a noble dog as that, yes!” replied Lewis sternly. “I might not take the trouble for a mere puppy;” and he pronounced the last two words with a marked emphasis, which rendered his meaning unmistakable. The person he addressed coloured with anger and slightly raised his cane, but he read that in Lewis’s face which caused him to relinquish his intention, and smiling scornfully he folded his arms and remained to observe the event.
This was Lewis’s introduction to Charles Leicester’s elder brother, Lord Bellefield, the affianced of Annie Grant.
Having completed his preparations, Lewis placed the knife between his teeth, and motioning to the crowd to stand on one side, gave a short run, dashed through the shallow water, and then, breasting the stream gallantly, swain with powerful strokes towards the still struggling animal. As he perceived his master approaching, the poor dog ceased howling, and seemingly re-animated by the prospect of assistance, redoubled his efforts to keep himself afloat.
In order to avoid the stroke of his paws, Lewis swam round him, and supporting himself by resting one hand upon the buoy, he grasped the knife with the other, and at one stroke severed the string. The effect was instantly perceptible: freed from the restraint which had till now paralysed his efforts, the dog at once rose higher in the water; and even in that extremity his affection for his master overpowering his instinct of self-preservation, he swam towards him with the child’s boat (of which, throughout the whole scene, he had never loosened his hold) in his mouth.
Merely waiting to assure himself that the animal had yet strength enough remaining to enable him to regain the shore, Lewis set him the example by quitting the buoy and striking out lustily for the bank; but now the weight of his clothes, thoroughly saturated as they had become, began to tell upon him, and his strokes grew perceptibly weaker, while his breath came short and thick.
Faust, on the contrary, freed from the string which had entangled him, proceeded merrily, and reached the shore ere Lewis had performed half the distance. Depositing the boat in triumph at the feet of one of the bystanders, the generous animal only stopped to shake the wet from his ears, and then plunging in again swam to meet his master. It was perhaps fortunate that he did so, for Lewis’s strength was rapidly deserting him, his clothes appearing to drag him down like leaden weights. Availing himself, of the dog’s assistance, he placed one arm across its back, and still paddling with the other, he was partly dragged and partly himself swam forward, till his feet touched ground, when, letting the animal go free, he waded through the shallow water and reached the bank, exhausted indeed, but in safety.
Rejecting the many friendly offers of assistance with which he was instantly overwhelmed, he wrang the water from his dripping hair, stamped it out of his boots, and hastily resuming his coat and waistcoat, was about to quit a spot where he was the observed of all observers, when Lord Bellefield, after exchanging a few words with his companion, made a sign to attract Lewis’s attention, and having succeeded in so doing, said, “That is a fine dog of yours, sir; will you take a twenty pound note for him?”