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5 Our Dumb Animals 205 (1872-1873)

handle is hein.journals/animals5 and id is 1 raw text is: 0b WVHO ~ ~~CANN02., _J1 99,'%~ I would not enter on my list of friends, Though graced with polished manners and fine sense, Yet wanting sensibility, the man TVho needlessly sets foot upon a worm.-[Cowper. Vol. 5. BOSTON, JUNE, 1872. No. 1. Our Dumb Animals. Published Monthly by the Am. $ocdetg for the Prevetion of (rrztg to lninlaI§, AT THE SOCIETY'S ROOMS, 46 Washington Street . . . . . Boston. TERMS. - $1.00 per annum, in advance. Postage in the city, FREE. To all parts of the United States, outside of Boston, TWELVE CENTS PER ANNUM for each package of four ounces, payable in advance, at the office where received. Articles for the paper, and subscriptions, may be sent to the Secretary. GEORGE T. ANGELL. . . . . . . President. HENRY SALTONSTALL . . . . . . Treasurer. FRANK B. FAY. . . . . . . . Secretary. CHARLES A. CURRIER. . . . . . Special Agent. For Our Dumb Animals. XlfE LITTLE BLACK DOG. [Translated and abridged from the Spanish of Don ANTONIO DR TRUEBA.I BY LYDIA MARIA CHILD. The high road from the valley of Mena, which crosses the dependencies of Biscay and terminates in the seaport town of Castro-Urdiales, traverses, just before leaving the territory of Biscay, certain wild solitudes known as the passes of Mount Otanez. The descent is so steep, and the ravines which cut the mountain are so deep, that only by means of zigzag turns, terraces and gigantic walls, has it been possible to make a passable road across the mountain. In one of the most solitary spots, where the torrent which discharges itself through the central ravine forms an elbow in the road, stands a wooden cross, in com- memoration of a bloody tragedy enacted in that awful solitude some twelve or fourteen years ago. Miguel, a light-hearted laborer from the province of Guipuzcoa, went there one spring morning and selected an elevated spot in a thicket of strawberry trees to put up a cabin for his accommodation. The next day, he went into the neighboring forest to cut down trees, which he had agreed to convert into charcoal for an iron-foundry in Otanez, a village at the foot of the mountain, from which it takes its name. He was a merry, good-natured fellow, and when he was alone at his work he enlivened his solitude with perpetual songs; whenever travellers passed that way, he was always ready with his affable salu- tations and cheerful talk; and he never failed to address some gallant, brave words to the baker-girls who, on Sundays and Thursdays, traversed the road on their way to Castro-Urdiales to sell the bread and cakes with which their panniers were loaded. Among these was a very handsome girl named Augustina. Twice a week she traversed the mountain road, in the morning, seated on a vigorous mule and followed by a lively little black dog; and in the latter part of the same day she returned by the same route to her dwelling in the parish of Sopuerta. On these occa- sions, a few words of friendly chat passed between her and Miguel, while the dog ate the bits of johnny- cake which the good-natured charcoal-maker always had ready for him. The little animal, frisky as a squirrel, always ran on ahead to salute his friend with capers and caresses, and repeated the same gambols on his departure. One Sunday afternoon, Miguel was very sound asleep in his cabin, having been busy all the preced- ing night hauling out and extinguishing the charred wood. While he was thus taking his rest, two French tinkers, with a horse, arrived at the elbow of the road and stopped under an overhanging grove of alders, which furnished a refreshing shelter from the sunshine. The situation commanded a view of Miguel's cabin, and of all the curves of the mountain road, as it went winding along toward the valley, some- fimes by the current of a rushing brook, and some- times among dark clumps of chestnut trees, till it reached the first houses in the village of Otanez. The tinkers took the panniers from their horse and turned him out to graze in a small bit of pasture, while they ate their luncheon by the roadside. While they made these preparations, one said to the other, When we passed here, the other day, the charcoal- burners were busy up there; but nobody seems to be stirring to-day. Where can they be ? It is Sunday, you know, replied the other; and they have doubtless gone to Otanez to change their clothes and get some wine to wash the charcoal dust from their thoats. Let us clean out the dust of the road from our throats with a rasher of bacon and draughts of claret. They laid hold of their provisions eagerly, passed the bottles to and fro, and soon became merry. I wonder whether the charcoal-burners can be sleeping up there in the cabin? said one. We can soon find out, rejoined the other; and placing his hands before his mouth to form a tube, he cried A-hoo-oo-oo, imitating the prolonged howl with which laborers of the district were accustomed to summon each other to their dinner, consisting of indian-cakes baked on a fire shovel, scraps of dried beef and a pot of beans cooked with bacon. The summons was repeated without meeting with any response. Don't tire yourself making that noise, said his comrade. The charcoal-burners have doubt- less gone to Otanez. Then it is a good chance to demand toll of those that pass the little bridge, replied the other. Only the trouble is, nobody passes, rejoined his comrade. Whist I exclaimed the other. It seems to me I hear somebody coming. They listened, and heard, coming up from below, the tinkling bells of a mule, accompanied by the voice of a woman, singing. They rose up to look out, and saw coming toward the bridge a young woman, mounted on a handsome mule and followed by a little black dog. It is a baker-girl, said one of the Frenchmen. They always come back from Castro with three or four dollars, which is more than we can make in as many days by mending old kettles. This one is a proud chit,.they say, observed the other. So much the better, was the brief reply. The mule is a superb beast, remarked his comrade. Very suitable for a fellow of my weight, was the evil reponse. A handsome woman, money and a fine mule la triple job! exclaimed the other, gleefully. They continued talking, but spoke in a low tone as the baker-girl was coming within hearing of their voices. When Augustina passed the cabin, she, as usual, called out, Miguel I but receiving no answer, she proceeded on her way. The little black dog ran u to the cabin, went in, and gambolled round Miguel, who was still sleeping; but receiving no attention, and hearing the bells of the mule receding, he soon ran after his mistress. When Augustina crossed the bridge, she perceived the tinkers seated on a stone by the roadside. Her face flushed, as if with a presenti. ment of danger, and she halted for an instant. But they had seen her, and it seemed impossible to evade them; she therefore made a great effoit to control her fears, and as she drew near to them she said, with apparent calmness, Good afternoon, gentlemen. Oho I you're a nice girl, said one of the tinkers, approaching her leisurely. Where are you from? From Castro, she replied. I suppose you know there is toll to pay at the bridge, said he. What bridge? she asked. ,The one you have just passed, rejoined he. Frightened by his manner, she inquired, with a trembling voice, How much must I pay ? All the money you have, replied the brutal fellow; and he rushed upon the poor girl, while the other seized the bridle of her mule. 'Jesus, help me! she cried, as he seized her in his arms and carried her to the thicket of alders by the roadside. She struggled in vain with his herculean strength. The little dog S.- 1591,11

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