“I shot the dog; it deserved to be killed for chasing hares on my father’s property,” answered the young lord. “You yourself must have set him on to drive the hares towards you. You are a poacher; we must have you up before the magistrates and punish you accordingly.”
“I did not set him on,” answered Dick, rising to his feet, “and I had no intention of killing any hares on the Elverston property. These rabbits I shot on my father’s farm, and I had a perfect right to kill them. The dog belongs to my blind sister. As she is ill, I took the poor brute out for a run.”
“A very likely story!” exclaimed Lord Reginald. “You have a gun in your hand and rabbits over your shoulder, and you had sent your dog scampering over the fields in search of more. I know your name, and shall report you to my father, so you may expect to take up your quarters in prison before many days are over.”
“The lad speaks the truth, my lord, about the dog,” observed the keeper, who had stepped forward and examined poor Faithful. “I have seen it many a time leading Farmer Hargrave’s blind daughter about, though whether he shot the rabbits on his father’s farm or not is another matter. We have never found him poaching before, so that part of the story may be true also.”
“I am sorry to have shot the dog, if it was useful to his blind sister,” said Lord Reginald; “and, I say, Jackson, I wish you’d look out for another to give the poor girl, instead of this one; she’ll not find out the difference.”
“I wouldn’t let her receive it if you should give her one!” exclaimed Dick, his anger in no way pacified by the young lord’s expressions of regret. “No dog could be found to equal Faithful; but I myself will look after a dog to take its place.”
“Really, my dear Oswald, I cannot stand by to see you thus insulted by this ungrateful young ruffian,” said Voules. “He has threatened to shoot you, and he looks like a fellow capable of doing what he says. The sooner he is taken up and sent to prison the better.”
“I have not been poaching! If you lay hands on me it will be the worse for you,” said Dick, grasping his gun.
“Come, come, Master Dick, do you go to your home, and do not be so foolish as to threaten mischief. It is dangerous to use such words, and you’ll be sorry for them by-and-by,” said the keeper, wisely interposing between the exasperated young men. “I know where to find you if you are wanted; but I don’t suppose the marquis will be hard upon you, when he hears how it was your sister’s dog was shot. If, my lord, you’ll please to let the lad go, I’ll undertake that he shall not come into the park again. His father is not the man to allow him to do anything against the law.”
Lord Reginald, who really much regretted having shot the dog, willingly listened to the keeper’s advice, and Voules, who had no object to gain in irritating him further against Dick Hargrave, said no more on the subject.