Pierrot had never been in a fight before, but he was strong and active, and instinct told him how to defend himself. He shook Luppe off and then the two dogs grappled. Pierrot was hampered by shafts and harness, but he held his own and did not attempt the aggressive. Mère Marie sent Henri running for his father, and seizing a milk-yoke tried to separate the two dogs.
Both were bleeding about the mouth but were not seriously injured when Père Jean arrived on the scene. Mère Marie held Pierrot by his harness while Père Jean managed to drag Luppe off and tie him, snarling and scolding, in the dairy.
Then Mère Marie made haste to load her cart, and soon they started out upon the road. At the sound of the departing wheels Luppe set up a long, despairing howl. Pierrot trotted proudly along, affecting not to hear, but a great sadness welled up in Henri’s breast, and there were tears in the bright eyes of Mère Marie.
The journey to Brussels seemed very long and tiresome to Henri, but he trudged along manfully beside his mother, who sought to keep up his spirits with cheery talk about the city and the people there.
Henri had driven to Brussels several times with his father, but he had never before spent so much time in the streets, and he soon forgot his weariness in the interesting sights about him. For one thing, he noticed that many of the other dogs wore muzzles, and he asked his mother about it.
“That is because they are ugly,” said Mère Marie. “They snap at people who disturb them and they try to fight other dogs.”
“But Pierrot wears no muzzle,” said Henri.
“That is because he is gentle,” said Mère Marie. “If you make a friend of your dog, and never beat him except when he is very bad, and talk to him a great deal, he becomes very like a person and does not want to bite any one.”
The Belgian cart-dogs are naturally good-natured, but their life has made them generally combative. When their masters take the trouble to treat them as comrades from puppyhood, they become exceedingly devoted and affectionate. Such a dog was Pierrot. He did not know what it was to have an enemy, and his love for Père Jean and Mère Marie and Gran’père and Henri and wee Lisa had grown as naturally as his big muscles and rough coat.
Toward the middle of the forenoon Henri grew weary again and began sitting on the curb beside Pierrot whenever his mother left him. So Mère Marie decided that he needed a little diversion.