Great Britain -- History -- Civil War, 1642-1649 -- Fiction
The cages of the wild beasts were in the basement of the kitchen tower,
with a little semicircular yard of their own before them. They were
solid stone vaults, with open fronts grated with huge iron bars--our
ancestors, whatever were their faults, did not err in the direction of
flimsiness. Between two of these bars, then, Tom, having procured a long
pole, proceeded to poke at the beast; but he soon found that the pole
thickened too rapidly towards the end he held, to pass through the bars
far enough to reach him. Thereupon, in utter fool-hardiness, backed by
the groom, he undid the door a little way, and, his companion
undertaking to prevent it from opening too far, pushed in the pole till
it went right in the creature's face. One hideous yell--and neither of
them knew what was occurring till they saw the tail of the panther
disappearing over the six-foot wall that separated the cages from the
stableyard. Tom fled at once for the stair leading up to the
stone-court, while the groom, whose training had given him a better
courage, now supplemented by the horror of possible consequences, ran to
warn the stablemen and get help to recapture the animal.
The uproariest tumult of maddest barking which immediately arose from
the chained dogs, entered the ears of all in the castle, at least every
one possessed of dog-sympathies, and penetrated even those of the rather
deaf host of the White Horse in Raglan village. Dorothy, sitting in her
room, of course, heard it, and hearing it, equally of course, hurried to
see what was the matter. The marquis heard it where he sat in his study,
but was in no such young haste as Dorothy: it was only after a little,
when he found the noise increase, and certain other sounds mingle with
it, that he rose in some anxiety and went to discover the cause.
Halfway across the stone court, Dorothy met Tom running, and the moment
she saw his face, knew that something serious had happened.
'Get indoors, mistress,' he said, almost rudely, 'the devil is to pay
down in the yard.' and ran on. 'Shut your door, master cook,' she heard
him cry as he ran. 'The Great Mogul is out.'
And as she ran too, she heard the door of the kitchen close with a great
bang.
But Dorothy was not running after the fool, or making for any door but
that at the bottom of the library tower; for the first terror that
crossed her mind was the possible fate of Dick, and the first comfort
that followed, the thought of Marquis; so she was running straight for
the stable-yard, where the dogs, to judge by the way they tore their
throats with barking, seemed frantic with rage.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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