“Shall noble fidelity, courage, and love,
Obedience and conscience—all rot in the ground?
No room be found for them beneath or above,
Nor anywhere in all the Universe round?
I cannot believe it. Creation still lives,
And the Maker of all things made nothing in vain.”
Tupper.
Danger is a very suggestive name for a dog, especially when that dog happens to be a guard-dog and a bull-terrier to boot. But such was the name by which the hero of this brief biography was always known. The probability is that he was descended from very ferocious ancestors; indeed, the dog had all the external appearance of one that could both tackle and hold, if occasion demanded any such display of his powers. However, one should judge, not even of a dog, from first impressions.
The dog Danger did not advance very high in my estimation at our first meeting. It wasn’t love on sight with either of us. I had gone into a shop in the dusk of a summer’s evening, to buy a small guide-book, being then on a tour through the lovely vale of Don, Aberdeenshire. I found no one in attendance except Danger, whom I did not at once perceive. A low ominous growl soon drew my attention to the spot where he was lying. I could just trace the dim outline of his figure, and see two eyes that glittered like balls of green fire. It would have been quite enough, no doubt, to make a person unaccustomed to dogs feel uneasy, more particularly as the shopkeeper seemed in no hurry to put in an appearance. He came at last, though.
“Is your dog dangerous?” I asked.
“He is very far from that,” was the quiet reply. “I often wish he were a trifle more so. But his name is Danger,” he added, smiling, as he lit the gas.
I had now a better look at the animal. He certainly was no beauty, and I thought at once of the painting by Landseer—“Jack in Office.” Danger was huge and somewhat ungainly, though not really so large as he looked. It was his immense head, and the general cloddiness of his body, that gave him the appearance of size. His ears were small and lopped over gracefully, his nose was both flat and broad, and his eyes did not look a bit more conciliatory in the light than they did in the semi-darkness. He came round behind, and forthwith instituted a very minute investigation of the calves of my legs. This was probably a proof of the dog’s high intelligence, but it was not over-pleasant to me nevertheless.
“There is hardly anything that animal won’t do,” said the shopkeeper.
“I can quite believe that,” I replied, with a furtive glance over my shoulder; “I can quite believe it.”
Danger went away presently, apparently satisfied with the result of his scrutiny, and my mind was relieved.
I had occasion to make many visits to the same shop after this, and Danger and I got to be very friendly indeed. There was something decidedly honest about Danger’s every look and action when you came to know him. Perhaps he had the same opinion about me. I trust he had. At all events he appeared to take to me, and had a quiet, queer way of showing his regard that many people wouldn’t have altogether relished: to wit, if I sat down in the shop, as I sometimes did, Danger would come and lay his great head in my lap; it weighed about ten pounds, apparently; any attempt at getting him to remove it, until he himself pleased, elicited a low growl, which was by no means reassuring. Yet, while he growled, he wagged his tail at the same time, as much as to say: