'Miss Lanark!' he shouted, 'you are mad yourself to touch him. Has he bitten you?' for I was crying so by this time that I had hidden my face in Rough's coat.
'Bitten me!' I exclaimed, looking up and not caring if Mr. Trevor saw my tears or not,—'bitten me! How can you imagine such a thing? Look at him.'
And, indeed, it was a sight to melt any heart and disarm any fears! Roughie was lying quite still, nestling against me as close as he could get, only quivering now and then and giving little sobbing sighs, just as a tiny child does after some violent trouble and crying.
I believe he was already asleep!
Mr. Trevor approached cautiously.
'He—he certainly looks all right now,' he said. 'Can it have been a fit of some extraordinary kind, then, or what can——'
'There is no mystery about it,' I said, 'except the mystery of how any one could be so cruel. Didn't you hear the rattling, Mr. Trevor—didn't you see—this?'
And I gave a gentle tug to the string, still firmly fastened to the poor little man; but gently as I did it, the horrid kettle and things in it jingled slightly, and at once Roughie opened his eyes and began to shake.
I soothed him again, but Mr. Trevor did the sensible thing. He laid down the gun, calling to the boys as they hurried up not to touch it, and taking out his penknife cut the string, close to the kettle end first, and then handed the knife to me, to cut the string again where it was fastened to my dog.
Rolf and Geordie could scarcely speak.