In a few moments Bulger’s wicker house was deposited on the floor and he was lifted gently out of it. I could only with the greatest exertion keep back the tears as his large, speaking eyes were turned full upon me as if to ask: “When will all this mystery come to an end, little master?” I stroked his head with a loving hand to assure him that all was right.
No sooner were the attendants out of the apartment than, taking the purse of gold which Bulger had picked up on the beach and restored to me, I placed it in his mouth and made a sign for him to carry it to Keen Chop, who had now resumed his huge spectacles, and sat poring over the pages of the record of Bulger’s trial.
Bulger did not wait for a second bidding.
Making straight for Keen Chop, he raised himself on his hind feet and dropped the purse in that dignitary’s lap.
“’Tis wonderful! ’Tis very wonderful!” cried Keen Chop, testing the weight of the purse, with a pleased expression of countenance, first in one hand and then in the other. “Thy speech was silvern, but his silence is golden! ’Twere a crime to part two such faithful hearts. Go in peace!”
“But the record of the trial?” I asked. Keen Chop spoke not, but turning to the last page, he laid his finger on the place where the blank spaces had been left.
They were now both filled.
The word “not” had been written in each of them.
The guards were now summoned, and in a few moments the shackles were loosened from Bulger’s feet. Upon finding himself free once more, he leapt into my lap with a wild cry of joy, and covered my hands and face with caresses.
I could not keep the tears back. Clasping the faithful animal convulsively in my arms, I wept like a child.