an emphasis on each word, “if that isn’t a little of the coolest! What the dickens have I been doing for these dames? In the country of my christening I’d have had as much for helping them over a stile, or picking up a dropped glove. ‘Good-day, sir!’ Name neither asked nor given! Not a hint about ‘calling again’!
“Well, I suppose I shall have another opportunity of seeing them. They are going straight towards the Ocean House. No doubt a brace of birds from that extensive aviary. Birds of paradise, too—judging by their fine feathers! Ah! the dark one. Step like a race-horse—eye like a she-eagle!
“Strange how the heart declares its preference! Strange I should think most of her who appeared least grateful! Nay, she spoke almost superciliously. I wonder if likes were ever mutual.
“I could love that girl—I’m sure of it. Would it be a true, honest passion? Not so sure of that. She’s not exactly the kind I’d like to call wife. I feel convinced she’d aspire to wear the—
“Talking of inexpressibles makes me think of my coat, hat, and boots. Suppose, now, the tide has swept them off? What a figure I’d cut sneaking back to the hotel in my shirt-sleeves! Hatless and shoeless to boot! It’s just possible such exposé is in store for me. My God!” The exclamation was uttered with an accent quite different from the speeches that preceded it. These had been muttered jocosely, with a smile upon his lips. Along with the “My God!” came a cloud, covering his whole countenance.
The change was explained by what quickly came after.
“My pocket-book! A thousand dollars in it! All the money I have in the world! If that’s lost I’ll cut a still sorrier figure at the hotel. A long bill owing! My papers, too! Some of them of great importance to me—deeds and documents! God help me, if they’re gone!”
Once more along the cliff; once more descending the slope, with as much haste as if still another damsel with “she-eagle” eyes was screaming for help below!
He had reached the sea-level, and was turning along the strand, when he saw a dark object upon the water—about a cable’s length out from the shore. It was a small row-boat; with two men in it.
It was headed toward Easton Beach; but the rowers had stopped pulling, and were sitting with oars unshipped. They were nearly opposite the cove out of which he had so lately climbed.
“What a pity!” was his reflection. “Had these fellows shown themselves but twenty minutes sooner, they’d have saved me a set of sore bones, and the young ladies a couple of shawls that must have cost them a good round price—no doubt five hundred dollars apiece! The boat must have been coming up shore all the time. How stupid of me not to have seen it!
“What are they stopped for now? Ah! my coat and cap! They see them, and so do I. Thank heaven, my pocket-book and papers are safe!”
He was hastening on to make them still more secure, for the tide was close threatening his scattered garments—when all at once a dark monster-like form was seen approaching from the sea, surging toward the same point. As it got into shallow water, its body rose above the surface discovering a huge Newfoundland dog!
The animal had evidently come from the boat—had been sent from it. But for what purpose did not strike the sportsman till he saw the shaggy creature spring upward to the ledge, seize hold of his coat in its teeth, and then turning with it plunge back into the water!
A Broadway frock of best broadcloth; a thousand dollars in the pockets; papers worth ten times the amount!
“Heigh! heigh!” cried the owner, rushing on toward the spot where the rape was being committed, “down with it, you brute! down with it! drop it!”
“Fetch it?” came a voice from the boat; “come on, good Bruno! Fetch it!”
The words were followed by a peal of laughter that rang scornfully along the cliffs. The voices of both the boatmen took part in it.
Blacker than the rocks behind him became the face of the sportsman, who had paused in silent surprise.
Up to that moment he had supposed that the two men had not seen him, and that the dog had been sent to pick up what might appear “unclaimed property.” But the command given to the animal, with the scornful laugh, at once cured him of his delusion, and he turned toward them with a scowl that might have terrified bolder spirits than theirs.
It did not check his rising wrath to perceive that they were a brace of young “bloods” out on a pleasuring excursion. Perhaps all the more did he feel sensible of the insult.
He who had wandered far and wide; who had tracked Comanches on the war-path; had struck his sword against a chevaux-de-frise of Mexican bayonets, to be mocked after such fantastic fashion, and by such fellows!
“Command the dog back!” he shouted, in a voice that made the rocks re-echo. “Back with him; or, by heaven, you shall both rue it!”
“Come on, Bruno?” cried they, reckless, now they had committed themselves. “Good dog! Fetch it! fetch it!”
He in the shirt-sleeves stood for a moment irresolute, because feeling himself helpless. The animal had got out of his reach. It would be impossible to overtake it. Equally so to swim out to the boat, and wreak his wrath upon the rowers, whose speech continued to torture him.
Though seeming to him an age, his inaction was scarce of a second’s continuance. On looking around to see what might be done, his eye rested upon the gun, still lying upon the ledge where he had left it.
With an exulting shout he sprang toward the piece, and again held it in his grasp. It was loaded with large shot; for he had been sporting for water-fowl.
He did not wait to give warning. The scurvy behaviour of the fellows had released him from all ceremony; and hastily raising the piece, sent a shower of shot around the shoulders of the Newfoundland.
The dog dropped the coat, gave out a hideous growling, and swam, crippled-like, toward the boat.
Laughter no longer ran along the cliffs. It had ceased at sight of the gun.
“It’s a double one,” said he who grasped it, speaking loud enough for them to hear him. “If you’ll bring your boat a little nearer, I may treat you to the second barrel?”
The bloods thought better than to accept the invitation. Their joke had come to a disagreeable termination; and with rueful faces they pulled poor Bruno aboard, and continued the row so regretfully interrupted.
Fortunately for the sportsman, the tide was still “running,” so that his coat came ashore—dollars and documents along with it.
He spent some time in wringing out his saturated habiliments, and making himself presentable for the hotel. By good luck, there were no streets to pass through—the Ocean House being at this time separated only by farm fields from the rocky shore that had been the scene of his achievements.
“Adventures enough for one day!” he muttered to himself, as he approached the grand caravanserai swarming with its happy hundreds.
He did not know that still another was in store for him. As he stepped into the long piazza, two gentlemen were seen entering at the opposite end. They were followed by a large dog, that sadly needed helping over a stile.
The
