What to do when the dog appears more cunning than the humans? Don't you wish you could have taken a trip to Europe when such things could be seen, with people in national costume rather than the same old shirts and pants? Although I'm sure the French women are glad they don't have to scrub clothes this way any longer!On the margins of the beautiful winding streams and rivers of France, washerwomen may often be seen at their work, presenting, under the leafy shade of the grand old trees, a very picturesque effect. No doubt you have seen pictures of these washing-places. They are furnished with a row of shallow, three-sided boxes, open toward the shore, and with the back resting on posts set in the water. Just below the surface of the water a smooth board slants downward, and the washerwoman, kneeling in the box, holds her piece of washing upon this slanting board with her left hand, while in her right she grasps a kind of paddle, with which she beats the linen, turning it again and again, until with the beating and the force of the running water it becomes entirely clean and white.
One summer day, many years ago, a washerwoman who was too fond a mother to leave her baby in any one else's care, brought it with her, and while at work, placed the child in the box where she was half kneeling, half sitting at her washing, and where she could occasionally bend down to fondle her darling baby. Suddenly, and without any warning, the child sprang from the mother's lap and slipped over the side of the washing-box into the bubbling river. The mother's shriek was echoed by the startled cries of the other washerwomen as the child was borne off by the current; and the poor mother was with difficulty restrained from leaping in after her child. At that moment, some one watching the tiny form perceived a dark object making its way from shore straight toward the drowning baby, still kept afloat by its clothing.
"A dog! it is a dog!" they cried. "See! he is swimming for the baby!"
The few seconds of suspense that followed seemed almost like hours. Then the watchers embraced the agonized mother, with words of cheer.
"He has her by her frock!" they cried. "See how he keeps the darling's head above the water! She is saved; yes, nearly saved!"
For a moment, the strong animal buffeted with the strong current and then struck out bravely,—but for the opposite shore. Then a new fear assailed the watchers, for that opposite shore was solitary and uninhabited; there were reports every season of prowling wolves that were seen there. What if this great creature were no dog, but a ferocious wolf that had saved the child only to devour it? And the dismayed women stepped before the weeping mother, so that she might not see the other shore.
The four-footed swimmer reached the land; he laid the rescued child on the ground, shook the water from his heavy coat, and then—calmly stretched himself panting and watchful by the silent form.
A cry of relief came from the watchers, and with swift feet they hurried to the ferryman's hut, not far up the stream. They found the old ferryman sitting in his boat, mending a rowlock, and chatting with his nine-year-old grandson, little Paul Dericker, who was on a visit to his grandfather from his home near Peaolo, on the Rhine. As soon as he heard the story, the ferryman untied his boat and quickly landed the excited washerwomen on the opposite bank. First to spring ashore, little Paul darted to the spot where the baby lay, but was speedily back with the information that the child was alive, for he had seen it move its arms and kick up its little feet, but that the dog would not let him come near.
Here was a dilemma. The dog guarded his prize determinedly, rolling a pair of fiery eyeballs and snarling savagely at the intruders when they attempted to approach. In the intervals, he would lick the face and hands of the infant, now cooing contentedly, and would give it the most affectionate attention. But let one of the party advance a step, and it was the signal for him to turn on them and drive them back. No coaxing had the least effect; and when one of the women, remembering a lunch of bread and meat in her pocket, tried to win him with food, he scorned to look at it. Losing patience, the ferryman provided himself with a club, and thought to try what a show of force could do. This merely enraged the dog, who was more than a match even for an armed man. Very much in earnest, then, Paul's grandfather sent the boy to bring from the boat his duck gun, declaring that the dog must be shot.
Away flew Paul, while the women set up such a lamentation because of the necessity of killing the dog that had saved the baby from drowning, that the ferryman made them go some distance away, lest the dog, if only wounded, should spring upon them indiscriminately, at a time when he would have all he could do to defend himself. But the gun, too, was a failure. It was evident the dog understood a gun. but supposed that they intended to shoot the child; for he protected its body so closely with his own, that to fire at one would be to fire at both. Completely baffled, the old man threw the weapon on the ground.
"Hold! Grandpa!" cried Paul, at his elbow, "I know what I can do!" And the swift feet were off toward the ferry once more.
"He is going to try a lasso on the beast—the way he caught the pig that broke out of the pen yesterday," said grandfather to himself; and then he shouted, but too late to be heard, "Don't take the rope that ties the boat, Paul! Don't let the boat loose!"
The women, waiting in terror for the report of the musket, saw Paul run past, and thought of him no more until three minutes later, when a cry for help attracted their attention, and Paul was seen to fall headlong over the boat's stern into the deep water. As he rose to the surface he grasped the rudder with one hand, but long before help could arrive, his hold slipped and he disappeared. The old man, running as fast as his stiff limbs could carry him, reached the boat at the same time as the women; but he was less frightened than they.
"Why—that chap can swim—like a duck," were his words, as he caught his breath. "He drowning?—I would n't—would n't have believed it!"
"He was frightened by the accident," some one remarked, while the old man worked at a disadvantage in getting off the boat, as he kept his eyes turned on the water.
"There! away yonder! so far down—oh!" came the cries from the shore, as the women, shielding their eyes from the sun with their hands, caught sight of the lad's head and shoulders above the surface, nearly opposite the point where the child had been landed. All felt that he was drowning, but none dared say so to the fond old grandfather. In the same breath Paul gave one last, long, piercing cry, and sank gradually amid the curling waves.
That call had an instant effect. True to his lifesaving instincts, the great dog leaped into the river again, and swimming to the boy, drew him, a heavier burden than the baby, slowly ashore at the spot where the baby had lain. But the baby lay there no longer; for its mother, whom the shriek of distress had also aroused, had snatched it up, as the dog left it, and borne it away in joy and triumph. And as soon as Paul was on land, he stood up and hailed the boat, swinging his arms and shouting:
"All right, Grandpa. Carry over the womenfolks, and when I 'm ready presently, I 'll walk across."
He broke into a laugh that startled the echoes, the merriest laugh, those who heard it said, that ever fell on their ears.
"The young rascal," cried his grandfather, gayly, while a tear of gratitude stole down his bronzed cheek, "to frighten and fool us so!"
"But how fine for him to have fooled the dog!" said the women.
The dog did not appear to take the loss of his former prize to heart, as he had now secured a larger and better. In a little while the boat was seen approaching. Paul stood up on his feet, patting the rather astonished dog upon the head, and the pair trotted along shore to meet the ferryman.
"We were just going to swim across for sport—can't we, Grandpa?" cried Paul.
But his grandfather thought there had been enough of that kind of sport for one day, and so the boy and his new playmate crossed in the boat.
Some hours later a sportsman fully equipped appeared at the ferry, inquiring for a dog answering the description of the one that now, hearing his master's voice, came rushing out of the ferryman's cottage. Both were glad to meet again, and the sportsman, when he had heard the story, expressed his delight that his noble runaway had so well employed his time.
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