"You must have hit the villain, master," says Billy.
I could hardly believe this, for the range was long, and the dog was moving; but on looking closely upon the ground I saw a trace of blood, and suspected that I had in fact hit the dog, which had, however, run on with the arrow in him. Being curious on this matter, I determined to follow up the track, and sent Billy back to the hut for a spear or an axe, as well to defend myself if the animal should turn upon me as to put it out of torment if its wound should be grave. The track was sometimes faint, but mostly clear, and ran in almost a straight line, so that I followed it with ease, where it led me through the wood eastward of the hut, bearing to the right round the base of the hill. But I did not see the dog for some time, until all of a sudden I caught a glimpse of it limping into the undergrowth some way ahead of me. I made speed to overtake it, and the animal turned, snarling very fiercely upon me, and standing as if to dispute my advance; but I perceived that the creature was already far spent, for it tottered, and recovered itself with great difficulty, so that I was very glad when Billy came up, and with one thrust of the spear ended the poor beast's life.
"There you are, you villain!" cried Billy with a kind of savage joy as he dealt the stroke; but I own I felt in a manner sorry for the creature, and thought it a pity that we should have to wage war against them, though I saw it was a necessity, they being, in their wild state, as fierce and dangerous to us as wolves. Maybe my softness was partly due to my recollection of a terrier we had at home, and I was contemplating the beast Billy had slain, striving to make out some likeness between her (for 'twas a bitch) and my uncle's terrier, when Billy cried, "What's that?" and I was aware of a faint yelping near by. Penetrating a little further into the undergrowth, I saw three little puppies, their eyes just open, but they were not yet able to crawl.
"They are very pretty when they're young, Billy," I said.
"Pretty!" says he. "I'll show 'em. They shan't never grow up to plague us;" and he was on the point of piercing one of them with his spear when I stayed his hand.
"But why and what for?" says he, looking at me in amazement. "They'll only starve, or be eaten by the other rascals when they find 'em. Better kill 'em now and have done with it."
Our Pets
But I had been thinking that we were two lone creatures on this island, and we might perchance find some solace and amusement in keeping pets, which we could not do with pigs or poultry, the former being too swinish and the latter too silly. And I confess the little things looked so pretty that I had not the heart to kill them, and so I proposed that we should carry them back to the hut and do our best to bring them up.
"What's the good?" says Billy. "They won't live. I had some rabbits once, and they died; and some guinea-pigs, and my mother drownded them—she wasn't my real mother; and they may be pretty now, though I can't see it, but when they grow up, bless you, they'll be as fierce as those other villains, and we may as well kill 'em first as last."
"Billy," I said, "my aunt Susan used to say, 'Never climb up to the chimney-pots to meet the rain'——"