On the sixth day, I had the pleasure of seeing Pepper, once more, upon
his feet; and, though still very weak, he managed to keep me company
during the whole of that day.
_XI_
THE SEARCHING OF THE GARDENS
How slowly the time went; and never a thing to indicate that any of the
brutes still infested the gardens.
It was on the ninth day that, finally, I decided to run the risk, if
any there were, and sally out. With this purpose in view, I loaded one
of the shotguns, carefully--choosing it, as being more deadly than a
rifle, at close quarters; and then, after a final scrutiny of the
grounds, from the tower, I called Pepper to follow me, and made my way
down to the basement.
At the door, I must confess to hesitating a moment. The thought of what
might be awaiting me among the dark shrubberies, was by no means
calculated to encourage my resolution. It was but a second, though, and
then I had drawn the bolts, and was standing on the path outside
the door.
Pepper followed, stopping at the doorstep to sniff, suspiciously; and
carrying his nose up and down the jambs, as though following a scent.
Then, suddenly, he turned, sharply, and started to run here and there,
in semicircles and circles, all around the door; finally returning to
the threshold. Here, he began again to nose about.
Hitherto, I had stood, watching the dog; yet, all the time, with half
my gaze on the wild tangle of gardens, stretching 'round me. Now, I went
toward him, and, bending down, examined the surface of the door, where
he was smelling. I found that the wood was covered with a network of
scratches, crossing and recrossing one another, in inextricable
confusion. In addition to this, I noticed that the doorposts,
themselves, were gnawed in places. Beyond these, I could find nothing;
and so, standing up, I began to make the tour of the house wall.
Pepper, as soon as I walked away, left the door, and ran ahead, still
nosing and sniffing as he went along. At times, he stopped to
investigate. Here, it would be a bullet-hole in the pathway, or,
perhaps, a powder stained wad. Anon, it might be a piece of torn sod, or
a disturbed patch of weedy path; but, save for such trifles, he found
nothing. I observed him, critically, as he went along, and could
discover nothing of uneasiness, in his demeanor, to indicate that he
felt the nearness of any of the creatures. By this, I was assured that
the gardens were empty, at least for the present, of those hateful
Things. Pepper could not be easily deceived, and it was a relief to feel
that he would know, and give me timely warning, if there were
any danger.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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