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Page 72
"Back! back!" he shouted to the bear-leader, and the ruffian ran back to
the shelter of a faggot-stack.
Then every face bending over the galleries grew red and hot with the
excitement of the horrid fray, and starting eyes glanced from every nook
and corner.
The bear sat on his haunches gathered together ready for action, his huge
paws uplifted. I could see how he quivered in his rough skin, and his
muzzle seemed to annoy him terribly. All at once the chain was slipped;
at a single leap the hounds cleared the intervening space, and their
sharp fangs were in a moment fixed in both poor Baptiste's ears, whose
heavy paws and long sharp claws hugged each bitter enemy around the neck,
slowly digging into their straining bodies till the blood spurted out in
streams. But he, too, was bleeding, for his ears were suffering cruel
lacerations; the dogs held on, and his tawny eyes were raised to the sky
with a pitiable look of appeal. Not a cry, not a sigh or a groan escaped
from a single combatant; the three animals formed a group as motionless
as if they had been carved in wood.
I could feel the perspiration running down my face.
This went on for five minutes.
At length the Tannenthaler seemed to be relaxing slightly; the bear
weighed more heavily on him with his heavy paw, his eye kindling with a
gleam of hope; then there was another brief pause. There was a horrid
groan, a cracking; the hound's backbone was broken, and he fell back upon
the stones, his jaws reeking with blood.
Then Baptiste, with a tremor of delight, threw both paws round the Dane,
who had not yet let go his hold, but his teeth were slipping from the
torn and bloody ear. Suddenly he shook himself and sprang backward; the
bear made a rush at his flying foe, but the chain held him back. The dog
fled, red with blood, and only stopped when he had got safe behind his
master, who gave him a favourable reception, while casting a glance at
his other dog, which lay motionless.
And here Baptiste placed his mighty paw upon the victim of his fury and
his valour; carrying his head high, he snuffed the carnage with distended
nostrils and panting sides; the veteran warrior was himself again.
Frantic applause rose from the galleries to the church spire. The bear
seemed to understand. I have never seen a more proud and resolute
bearing.
After this fight all the spectators were taking breath; the capuchin
friar Johannes, seated upon the banister facing the field of battle,
shook his stick, smiling with satisfaction in his long brown beard.
People wanted a little relief; pinches of snuff were offered and
accepted, and the voice of Doctor Melchior, discussing and explaining the
different phases of the conflict, was heard over the noise of many
talkers. But he had no time to finish his speech, for in a moment the
barn-door flew open, and more than five-and-twenty dogs, great and small,
the very vagrants and scum of the town, offered up as a sacrifice to do
honour to the occasion, wallowed in a heap into the yard, howling and
yelling, barking, snapping, and snarling; then, as if second thoughts had
rather modified their ideas about valour, they all retreated into a safe
corner of the yard, the farthest from the bear, where they contented
themselves with angry protests, making short runs at the enemy and quick
retreats, making a very sorry pretence of war.
"Oh, those cowardly curs! the miserable little brutes!" cried the
valorous occupants in the gallery.
And the much wiser and discreeter dogs looked up in answer, and seemed to
say--
"Go yourselves!"
Still the bear was standing well on the defensive when, to the general
astonishment, Heinrich reappeared, holding his Danish hound by the chain.
I have since been informed that he had wagered fifty florins with Joseph
Kilian, the gamekeeper, that the boar-hound would renew the attack. He
advanced slowly, patting the dog with his hand, and saying persuasively--
"Good dog, Blitz! good dog!"
And the noble animal, in spite of his bleeding wounds, rushed in; then
the whole pack of mongrels, curs, puppies, lurchers, and turnspits ran in
too in a long string, till poor Baptiste was covered with the vile rabble
rout; he did what he could, he rolled over and over as far as his chain
would let him, growling and grunting, crushing one, sending another away
with a bite, struggling furiously. The brave Dane still showed the
greatest intrepidity; he had caught the bear between the ears, and rolled
over with him, his fore-legs in the air, whilst the rest were biting,
some his legs, and some his torn and bleeding ears. There seemed no end
to this plague of dogs.
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