Shock put down the barrow; and then his mischief-loving disposition got the better of his sulkiness, and stooping down he astonished me and made Mrs Beeton shriek by taking a leap up the two steps, like a dog, and going on all-fours to the box.
“Pray, pray, take him away, Master Dennison!” the poor woman cried in real alarm; “and do, pray, mind yourself—the boy’s mad!”
“Oh, no; he won’t hurt you,” I said, taking one end of the box. But Shock growled, shook it free, lifted it from the floor, and before I could stop him, bumped it down the steps on to the barrow with a bang, laid it fairly across, and then seizing the handles went off at a trot.
“I can’t stop,” I said quickly; “I must go and look after him.”
“Yes, but pray take care, my dear. He bites. He bit a boy once very badly, and he isn’t safe.”
Not very pleasant news, but I could not stay to hear more, and, running after the barrow, I caught up to it and laid my hand upon one side of the box as if to keep it steady.
I did not speak for a minute, and Shock subsided into a walk; then, turning to him and looking in his morose, ill-used face:
“I’ve never thanked you yet for getting me out of the river.”
The box gave a bump and a bound, for the handles of the barrow were raised very high and Shock began to run.
At the end of a minute I stopped him, and as soon as we were going on steadily I made the same remark.