Squib and His Friends

of any personal peculiarities—although he had a few of these—but because he had no especial brother or

to the live dolls in the nursery—the little twin sisters, Hilda and Hulda, whom nobody knew apart save themselves and the nurse. But Squib had no brother or sister to be bracketed with him. The baby who came next in age to him had died in infancy, a

so far he had not gone to school, but had been taught with his sisters in the schoolroom); and his pursuits were not of a kind to be attractive to the dainty little ladies, Philippa and Molly, or to

her some years before my story begins, and it had stuck to him ever since. His real name was Sydenh

until some exhaustive mental process had taken place, after which he would suddenly “go off,” 11as his father expressed it, and talk rapidly and eagerly for several minutes straight on end; then having thus reli

as a busy man, having a large estate to order, being a magistrate, churchwarden, and guardian of the poor-law, and having social duties to attend to as well. He was a most devoted husband; and people used to say that never was there

rse when Squib was five years old. He was walking through the shrubberies one morning when the sound

tell lies! I did hear fat

never would sing such a wicked song. It on

It’s you who are wicked, saying I tell lies and father sings wicked songs!” and the crunch of the gravel

eld Squib by the hand, as if with the intention of taking him at once before some domestic tribunal; whilst the child’s square, determined face was flushed a deep crimson, his dark-grey eyes looked almost

tion to authority in my house—you know that as well as I do.” For Colonel Rutland, with his military training, was a martinet in his house about

the hand she was holding and made a respectful courtesy to her master. Squib stood per

You did sing it. I heard you; and it isn’t wicked—and she didn’t ought to say

up his hand to

s mean?” he asked,

words sung, he turned and said that he’d heard you sing them, which I was quite sure was not true, and I told him so. And then he went off into on

had an ailing baby indoors (Squib’s little brother who shortly afterwards died), was glad to

manner, “let me hear the whole truth of this from you. What

n song,” and taking a deep breath and swelling himself out in unconscious imitation of a singer about to commence hi

ve de

ther o

ing off he looked up at

it yourself, father—s

notes that was familiar to him; but what could the child mean? H

, Squib?” he asked, still not

drawing-room and sang songs. There was another song about ‘Ban, ban, Ca-Caliban’—you must remember; but it

another’s houses to read a play of the great dramatist’s, the parts being allotted by previous arrangement. Not very long since “The Tempest” had been read in this way at Rutland Chase, and the children had been allowed to come i

fathom

ather

over anything not understood, had transformed it to

uib, who had always amused him when he had had time to notice his children; and the bond was more 16close

slate colour merging almost in black, with a head very broad across the brows, and a voice like a church bell. He was a very magnificent animal, but he had a fierce temper, and mad

ved. Colonel Rutland was having a place made for him where he could be shut up without being chained, which he hoped would tend to the humanizing and taming of him; but, meantime, he had to be fastened up in the yard when not at

distance as to whether it were really safe to keep such a fierce animal on the premises, and whether he might not be running a fool

ttle voice, “shall I

n, and looked round about him, and again

ar’s kenne

Now, turning his startled glance in that direction, he saw Squib sitting curled up o

see him! It was with difficulty he commanded his voice to say quietly, whilst hims

once and made an outward bound, flinging himself upon th

have Czar to 18go out with me someti

ltogether, the fierce bay ceased, for the creature was engaged in licking the child’s hands and face, and in fondling him with evident delight. The father looked on

ib, with great, wistful eyes. “I’ve never be

held out a

How came you and Czar to be such friends? I did n

d only coming reluctantly to his side when called with authority. Whenever Squib held out his hand, Czar made a dash at him and licked it; and once the child jumped upon the great creature’s back, and Czar took him for a

reat bones, and then I sat just inside his kennel and talked to him all the time, and made it sociable for him; and he brought me the biggest bone of all, and I pretended I liked it very much, and then I gave it him back and he lay down and ate it, and I stroked him and talked to him all the time. He is such an interesting dog to talk to when you know hi

; but, nevertheless, he could not picture the first approach of his small son to that great fierce dog in the midst of his bones without a tremor of thankful relief. Now it was abundantly evident that an excellent understanding existed between them, for Czar would come at the least s

for an hour, Squib,” he said presently, “do you thin

—about being obedient and all that. I think he wants to be good—only he’s got nobody to teach him and be good to hi

he fierce dog became gradually tamed and dependable, an

t occurred 21which increased the Colonel’

some of his friends were able to do. Still, he had always one, and sometimes two hunters in his stable, and at this time, when Sq

er and very strong hind-quarters, legs as sound and fine as the huntsman himself could wish to see, and a well-turned head and gentle eye. The Colonel and his wife and some of the children all assembled at the front-door to examine and look at the horse, who stood pawing the gravel, seeming as if he knew perfectly the commotion his beauty and strength were exciting. There were several guests in the house who knew something about horses, and a great 22deal of conversation was going on after the animal had

e should not do at that strange touch upon his leg. But the creature turned his head round, looked at the little, white clinging figure, and stood perfectly quiet un

to the stables now; he has won himse

Lady Mary herself sometimes rode to hounds upon him by her husband’s side, and so strong and clever and enduring

was a great friend and favourite. But Charger was so sensible, so kind, so friendly, and so big! There is always an attraction to a boy of native courage in the sensation of being mounted on a big horse. Often and often, when the great hunter was saddled and about to be brought round to the door, Squib would plead to be allowed to ride round upon him, and though

n alighting after a fine leap, he came down upon a treacherous bit of ground where the foothold was very bad. With an effort which seemed to imply that he was thinking first of his rider’s safety and second of his own, he avoided the fall which seemed for a moment inevitable, but he slipped badly and only recovered himself af

e Charger was turned out for an hour or two on warm days “to exercise hisself” as the groom called it. Squib also made great friends with the veterinary surgeon w

ght drop on it any time sudden like, and nobody cares to ride a horse like 25that. The only thing now is to break him for

Squib’s eyes as he

t!” he cried indignantly. “I’m su

tle and quiet. He’s got a spirit of his own, he has; and when a creature has never had

household to think that the master could never ride him safely again. Then came the question of break

rom a race of hunters, and don’t have them family feelin’s as some young hacks do, as takes the collar like mother’s milk as you m

r’s study, and stood silently beside him as he wrote busily before his table. But when the Colonel presently looked u

t his heart to break. He’s the nicest horse that ever lived, and I can’t bear it. Father, didn’t I hear you say that Shag wa

ou like a little Exmoor? They are v

her. I don’t want a pony at

arg

ike it; and he’d be nice, and safer for me than any pony, because he knows the country; you say so yourself, and he’s so good, even mother wouldn’t be frightened to let me go out on him. Fathe

eight of the small boy without the least fear of renewing the strain; and as Squib said, he had a remarkable knack of sticking on, whilst he had “hands as any horse would be proud to answer to,” as the old coachman put it. And so his request was granted. The fai

stified all the confidence placed in him, and a stronger bond of friendship was thus established between the chi