"Well, Grizzly, what is to be done now? Eh, sir? We must have yon cattle, Grizzly, come fair or come foul. There is this scurvy Norman in the way. What are we to do with him? I think we can dispose of him somehow or other. What say you?"
Grizzly answered by a vigorous attempt to lick Badger's chops.
"Eh, sir? I don't doubt but we can finish him off easily enough, you and I together, Grizzly. But what will our Abbot say? Are you aware, sir, that you and I have a sacred calling—that we belong to the monastic order? Don't you remember the many sermons we have from our Abbot, on loving our enemies? I don't quite see the turn of the wit in the case of these Norman dogs, somehow or other. No doubt it is sound doctrine enough, but bad to practise. Well, let that pass. I have a feeling, though, I would rather not brain this fellow, if another turn will serve as well. Now it would certainly ease my mind to do it if I caught him, flagrante delicto, flagrante delicto. Grizzly, did you note, that is the monk that is speaking? You see I can mouth my Latin when it pleases me, Grizzly. There is many a scurvy monk knows less. But I say, Grizzly, I fancy the fellow's knees are knocking together already with fear at being left alone, and that is very suggestive. Let us try playing ghost with him."
So saying, Badger divested himself of his upper garments, leaving his shoulders and the upper parts of his body exposed. Then he took the garments and tied them deftly about the shoulders of Grizzly, giving him a most strange and uncouth appearance. Having done this, and without exposing themselves to view, Badger commenced to give forth, in a low tone, the most dismal groans, and varying this by most piercing shrieks of pain.
The Norman turned a terrified gaze in the direction from whence these strange noises came, evidently in great trepidation and fear. Then he darted off a few paces, as though about to beat a hasty retreat. This was enough. Badger saw at once that the ruse would answer. So, without more ado, he dropped down on all fours, and, accompanied by the dog, each of them presenting a most unearthly and fantastic appearance, they started off in the direction of the sentinel, the groans and shrieking of Badger deepening, and becoming most diabolical in tone and intensity.
The Norman for one moment turned a scared gaze on the advancing figures, which appeared to him to be none other than the Saxon devil Zernebock, of which many Normans went in mortal dread. Then, with the speed of the wind, he took to his heels and dashed off towards the camp. Quick as thought, Badger freed the dog from his trammels, and bade him fetch the cattle. In a very few minutes he was making off, all speed, with the herd.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
DOG ROBS DOG.
"I am but a gatherer and disposer of other men's stuff."