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Page 34
Instinctively any dog struggles to escape the fate of the
outcast. By every art he possesses he ingratiates himself with
men. One that has his usefulness in the human scheme of things
often is able to make his own terms with life, to win the niche
of his choice. Bobby's one talent that was of practical value to
society was his hunting instinct for every small animal that
burrows and prowls and takes toll of men's labor. In Greyfriars
kirkyard was work to be done that he could do. For quite three
centuries rats and mice had multiplied in this old sanctuary
garden from which cats were chased and dogs excluded. Every
breeze that blew carried challenges to Bobby's offended nose.
Now, in the crisp gray dawn, a big rat came out into the open and
darted here and there over the powdering of dry snow that frosted
the kirkyard.
A leap, as if released from a spring, and Bobby captured it. A
snap of his long muzzle, a jerk of his stoutly set head, and the
victim hung limp from his grip. And he followed another deeply
seated instinct when he carried the slain to Auld Jock's grave.
Trophies of the chase were always to be laid at the feet of the
master.
"Gude dog! eh, but ye're a bonny wee fechter!" Auld Jock had
always said after such an exploit; and Bobby had been petted and
praised until he nearly wagged his crested tail off with
happiness and pride. Then he had been given some choice tidbit of
food as a reward for his prowess. The farmer of Cauldbrae had on
such occasions admitted that Bobby might be of use about barn and
dairy, and Mr. Traill had commended his capture of prowlers in
the dining-room. But Bobby was "ower young" and had not been "put
to the vermin" as a definite business in life. He caught a rat,
now and then, as he chased rabbits, merely as a diversion. When
he had caught this one he lay down again. But after a time he got
up deliberately and trotted down to the encircling line of old
courtyarded tombs. There were nooks and crannies between and
behind these along the wall into which the caretaker could not
penetrate with sickle, rake and spade, that formed sheltered
runways for rodents.
A long, low, weasel-like dog that could flatten himself on the
ground, Bobby squeezed between railings and pedestals, scrambled
over fallen fragments of sculptured urns, trumpets, angels'
wings, altars, skull and cross-bones, and Latin inscribed
scrolls. He went on his stomach under holly and laurel shrubs,
burdocks, thistles, and tangled, dead vines. Here and there he lay
in such rubbish as motionless as the effigies careen on marble
biers. With the growing light grew the heap of the slain on Auld
Jock's grave.
Having done his best, Bobby lay down again, worse in appearance
than before, but with a stouter heart. He did not stir, although
the shadows fled, the sepulchers stood up around the field of
snow, and slabs and shafts camped in ranks on the slope. Smoke
began to curl up from high, clustered chimney-pots; shutters were
opened, and scantily clad women had hurried errands on decaying
gallery and reeling stairway. Suddenly the Castle turrets were
gilded with pale sunshine, and all the little cells in the tall,
old houses hummed and buzzed and clacked with life. The
University bell called scattered students to morning prayers.
Pinched and elfish faces of children appeared at the windows
overlooking the kirkyard. The sparrows had instant news of that,
and the little winged beggars fluttered up to the lintels of
certain deep-set casements, where ill-fed bairns scattered
breakfasts of crumbs.
Bobby watched all this without a movement. He shivered when the
lodge door was heard to open and shut and heavy footsteps
crunched on the gravel and snow around the church. "Juist fair
silly" on his quaking legs he stood up, head and tail drooped.
But he held his ground bravely, and when the caretaker sighted
him he trotted to meet the man, lifted himself on his hind
legs, his short, shagged fore paws on his breast, begging
attention and indulgence. Then he sprawled across the great
boots, asking pardon for the liberty he was taking. At last, all
in a flash, he darted back to the grave, sniffed at it, and stood
again, head up, plumy tail crested, all excitement, as much as to
say:
"Come awa' ower, man, an' leuk at the brave sicht."
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