The Maid of SkerBlackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge)
General
The Maid of Sker
Blackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge)
Foundlings -- Fiction; Romance fiction; Wales -- Fiction
A tremendous roaring of dogs broke upon me the moment I got the first
glimpse of the house; and this obliged me to go on carefully, because of
that race I have had too much, and never found them mannersome. One huge
fellow rushed up to me, and disturbed my mind to so great a degree that
I was unable to take heed of anything about the place except his savage
eyes and highly alarming expression and manner. For he kept on showing
his horrible tusks, and growling a deep growl broken with snarls, and
sidling to and fro, so as to get the better chance of a dash at me; and
I durst not take my eyes from his, or his fangs would have been in my
throat at a spring. I called him every endearing name that I could lay
my tongue to, and lavished upon him such admiration as might have melted
the sternest heart; but he placed no faith in a word of it, and nothing
except my determined gaze kept him at bay for a moment. Therefore I felt
for my sailor's knife, which luckily hung by a string from my belt; and
if he had leaped at me he would have had it, as sure as my name is
Llewellyn; and few men, I think, would find fault with me for doing my
best to defend myself. However, one man did, for a stern voice cried--
"Shut your knife, you scoundrel! Poor Sammy, did the villain threaten
you?"
Sammy crouched, and fawned, and whimpered, and went on his belly to lick
his master, while I wiped the perspiration of my fright beneath my hat.
"This is a nice way to begin," said Chowne, after giving his dog a kick,
"to come here and draw a knife on my very best dog. Go down on your
knees, sir, and beg Sammy's pardon."
"May it please your reverence," I replied, in spite of his eyes, which
lay fiercer upon me than even those of the dog had done, "I would have
cut his throat; and I will, if he dares to touch me."
"That would grieve me, my good Welshman, because I should then let loose
the pack, and we might have to bury you. However, no more of this
trifle. Go in to my housekeeper, and recover your nerves a little, and
in half an hour come to my study."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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