Paul and His Dog.

VOL.2.

by Charles Paul de k.o.c.k.

PART II

THE CHAMOUREAUS

I

THE INSTINCT OF DOGS

"You have not told us yet, monsieur le docteur," said Agathe, "how the little fellow fell into the water. I fancy that he was not trying to play a trick on himself?"

"Oh, no! mademoiselle; but still that accident happened to him as a result of his evil disposition. In the first place, he did not fall into the water--he went in himself. My young gentleman was pleased to bathe, although it isn't warm enough yet for bathing in the river; but he had been forbidden to do it, and that was a sufficient reason for him to do it. He had also been told, when he did bathe, not to go to that particular part of the Marne, because, on account of the eddies and currents, it was very dangerous and even the best swimmer might be drowned.

"My little scamp, who is afraid of nothing, did not fail to go to that spot to bathe, about three days ago. But when he tried to swim, he found that he was being drawn under; his strength failed him and he shouted for help. Ami happened to be pa.s.sing--his master was not far away, probably--and in two bounds the dog was in the water. He swam toward the child, who was sinking, caught him by the hair and carried him to the bank. The little fellow had nothing worse than a fright."

"Of course he patted and fondled the dog, to thank him for the service he had rendered him?"

"He? He called him a nasty beast and said: 'You fool, to grab me by the hair and make my head ache! you deserve to be licked!' That was the young gentleman's grat.i.tude!"

"Oh, dear! he certainly is a wicked little boy."

"If my son had lived," sighed Honorine, "I am sure he wouldn't have been naughty like that!"

"Probably not, madame; for children generally take after their father and mother more or less, although there have been great criminals who were born of most estimable parents. But you would have taken care of your child, madame; you would have repressed his evil tendencies, corrected his faults, early in life; and that is just what poor Jacqueline could not do. The good woman, being obliged to work for her living, could not keep her eye on the boy, who, no doubt, pa.s.sed his days in the village street with the other children, from the moment he was able to walk. And here it is the same: Jacqueline works for her sister, and little Emile does what he pleases, for there is no way of keeping him in the house. Mere Tourniquoi undertook to make him go to school,--but no; the rascal beat his schoolmates, laughed at his teachers, played tricks on them, concealed or destroyed the school-books--so that they turned him out of the school."

"He's a promising child!" cried Agathe; "still, I am curious to see him."

"And so am I," said Honorine; "if only we might by gentle treatment and reasoning bring him around to better sentiments!--for he will be a man some day! There are too many people who enjoy doing evil; and it is blameworthy to allow the number to increase!"

"What you say is very true, madame, but in truth I believe that you would waste your time with the lost child; not that he is without intelligence and doesn't understand what is said to him;--oh! no, indeed! On the contrary, the little rascal has plenty of wit, and he often proves it by what he says; but it's an evil kind of wit, mischievous and wicked!"

"Oh! doctor, consider that he is not eight years old, so you told us!

One would think, to hear you talk, that you do not love children."

"I do love them dearly until they are two years old; but very little when they are growing up."

"If this one has intelligence, there is still hope; only the unintelligent are hopeless."

"Ah! but what I love," cried Agathe, "is that splendid dog, who throws himself into the water as soon as he sees anyone in danger; that is magnificent!"

"That is not at all extraordinary, mademoiselle, in a dog of that breed.

I do not mean to decry Ami's merit, I acknowledge that it is very great--although our acquaintance began in such strange fashion, as you remember. I simply mean to say that history, both ancient and modern, relates such astounding facts with respect to dogs that one would be tempted to doubt them, if they did not come from authors deserving of credit. Moreover, we ourselves constantly witness actions which do honor to the canine race. I have read not a little--for one must do something with one's time, and in this small place my profession leaves me a great deal of leisure. If I were not afraid of making myself a bore, I would tell you some of these remarkable stories."

"Far from boring us, it will interest us deeply; but you will allow us to work while we listen."

The doctor, having taken a pinch of snuff, bowed to the ladies, because he thought that he was going to sneeze, and continued, with that supremely happy expression which appears upon the faces of people who are given to gossiping when they see that their listeners are profoundly attentive:

"What I am about to tell you, mesdames, you know already, perhaps; for, I say again, they are facts reported by historians or travellers; you will please stop me if I tell what is familiar to you.

"In a history of the Indies, by Oviedo, I have read that a man who was guilty of a heinous crime was abandoned to a dog who was accustomed to eat the poor devils who were placed at his mercy. Well, the criminal having thrown himself at the dog's feet, praying for mercy, the beast took pity on him and did him no injury. The authorities, believing that they saw the hand of G.o.d in the incident, pardoned the culprit. To my mind this is far more wonderful than the story of Androcles; for Androcles had previously rendered the lion a service by removing a thorn from his foot, and the king of beasts recognized his benefactor; whereas the dog had never before seen the man who knelt at his feet. The learned men of those days--who were men of merit too--declared that this miracle was to be attributed to the power of the man's eyes over those of the dog; and this is the opinion of modern scholars as well; they attribute to the human glance a mighty power of intimidation, let us rather say of fascination, over all animals; and it is this power of the glance which enables men to subdue the wildest horses; but I return to the dog.

"A tyrant of a small princ.i.p.ality in Italy had a pack of hounds trained to hunt men and regularly fed on human flesh. A child was tossed to this pack and the dogs did not touch it. In this case it may have been that the victim's tender age awoke a secret compa.s.sion in their hearts. We often have proofs that dogs are very fond of children; they display with respect to them a gentleness and patience really extraordinary.

Jean-Jacques Rousseau saw a child bite a poodle until it yelped with pain, and yet it did not manifest the slightest temper. The Genevan philosopher, who claimed to be a friend of mankind, did not fail to draw this conclusion: that dogs are superior to men.

"The dog displays unwavering attachment to his master; he understands his wishes, knows his habits, always submits to his will: to serve him is a necessity of his existence. In Siberia, during the summer, the dogs are allowed to run wild, so that they may provide themselves with food.

No matter how much they may be overworked, brutally treated, beaten even, they return to their masters none the less, at the approach of winter, to be harnessed anew to the sledge and resume their laborious service.

"In India there are the _pariah_ dogs, which have neither master, nor friend, nor home. They try to attach themselves to strangers, they exhaust every means of persuasion to induce them to adopt them. It often happens that one of them will follow for a long distance the palanquin of the traveller whose service he begs to enter, and he does not leave it until he falls in his tracks, utterly exhausted.

"According to Cuvier, mankind made the most useful and complete of all conquests when it domesticated the dog. 'Without the dog,' he says, 'men would have fallen victims to the wild beasts they have subdued.' Other animals surpa.s.s the dog in strength and beauty, but throughout the world the dog alone is the ally of man, because his nature makes him susceptible to man's advances and obedient to his will. He is a turncoat, who has deserted the ranks of our enemies and pa.s.sed into our camp, in order to aid us to become masters of the other animals.

"To obtain a just idea of the dog's real worth, we must take note of the value which savage races attach to him. In Australia, women have been known to give the breast to puppies. I hasten to add that this has never been seen in France, because the women here are not savages.

"Men in general are very fond of hunting; there are some men indeed who cannot exist without it; hunting is the first instinct of the dog. In unsettled countries they join in troops to hunt the buffalo, the wild boar, and sometimes even the lion and the tiger.

"Pliny relates the anecdote of Alexander's Albanian dog, who conquered a lion and an elephant in succession, and whose tail, paws and ears were cut off, one after another, without making him give the slightest indication of pain.

"The terrier holds his own against beasts fifteen times as large as himself; no matter how cruelly his adversary may tear him, he dies without a groan. Few of the domesticated breeds possess courage and contempt of pain in so high a degree.

"Nature develops in dogs faculties suited to the countries in which they live. The dogs of the banks of the Nile drink while running, in order not to fall into the jaws of the crocodile. The dogs of New Orleans, when they wish to cross the Mississippi, stand barking on the bank to attract the alligators; and when they feel sure that the reptiles have all a.s.sembled at that point, they scamper away at the top of their speed and jump into the stream half a mile farther up.

"Dogs have been known to resort to ingenious wiles to increase their allowance of food; they scatter it all about, then pretend to sleep, in order to attract birds and rats, which by this means they add to their repast. As a proof of their intelligence, we are told of the setter who went into partnership with a greyhound for the purpose of hunting; the one having a keener scent, undertook to discover the game; the other, fleeter of foot, to run it down. The owner of the setter conceived some suspicion, and fastened a chain to his leg in order to make locomotion difficult. As he continued his wandering life none the less, they watched him, and soon discovered that his partner, the greyhound, in order to make it easier for him to perform his part of the task, carried the end of the chain in his mouth until it was time for himself to start in chase of the game.

"One of the most difficult services which the dog is called upon to perform is that of smuggler, in the contraband trade. In that dangerous service, which is often fatal to him, he displays the most surprising sagacity. He ordinarily sets out at night, laden with merchandise; he scents the customs officer in the distance, and attacks him if he feels that he can gain the victory; otherwise he hides behind a tree, a hedge, a clump of bushes. And when he has reached his destination, he does not show himself until he has made sure that he is in no danger of being seen.

"Everybody is familiar with the intelligence and fidelity of the shepherd dog; we see examples of it every day as we walk about the country; but I cannot resist the temptation to mention one incident related by James Hogg.

"Seven hundred lambs, in charge of a single shepherd, escaped one fine summer night, divided into several bands, and scattered among the valleys and fields and mountains. 'Sirrah, my boy, my lambs have gone!'

said Hogg disconsolately to his dog, simply putting his thought into words, with no idea of giving him an order. Then the shepherd went hither and thither in search of his flock; while the dog disappeared, without a sound, and without the knowledge of his master, who could see nothing in the darkness. When the day broke, the poor shepherd, exhausted by fatigue and distress, was preparing to return to the farm, when he spied his faithful dog Sirrah, in a neighboring valley, guarding not simply a few lambs that he had found, as one might have supposed at first; but the whole flock, with not one missing. 'That,' says James Hogg, 'is the most amazing fact in my whole experience.' --And, in truth, how can we comprehend the patience, the sagacity and the labor which enabled that dog, in the brief s.p.a.ce of a summer night, to collect that whole band of fugitives! It was more than several shepherds together could have done.

"Hogg also relates how a sheep-stealer carried on his unlawful trade with the help of his dog. The thief would pretend to want to buy some sheep, and while he examined the flock, he would indicate to his dog, by a sign which he never mistook, which ones he desired to appropriate.

During the night the dog would return alone, often from a considerable distance, and would never fail to detach from the flock and drive to his master the sheep he had designated, which were always the best and fattest of the flock.

"If a sheepfold takes fire, the sheep refuse to go out, but the shepherd dog saves a great part of them by rushing into the fold and barking and snapping at them until he induces them to go out.

"In Turkey, where the dogs are very numerous, every person who meets one at night is attacked unless he is provided with a lantern; for they look upon him as a stranger with evil intentions.

"Petrarch had a dog that s.n.a.t.c.hed a naked sword from the hand of a cutthroat who attacked his master. We have many servants who would not do as much!

"Plutarch relates an anecdote which proves that the dog never forgets his master's murderers and never forgives them: King Pyrrhus caused his whole army to march past a dog who had watched for three months the body of his murdered master, refusing to eat or drink; he seized the murderer as he pa.s.sed, and would not relax his hold until the man had confessed his crime.

"You must surely have heard of the dog of Montargis, who pointed out the place where his master had been buried, and jumped at the a.s.sa.s.sin whenever he saw him; the result being that the king ordered a duel between the man and the dog, in which the latter was the victor and slew the murderer.