The Man with Two Left Feet, and Other StoriesWodehouse, P. G. (Pelham Grenville)
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The Man with Two Left Feet, and Other Stories
Wodehouse, P. G. (Pelham Grenville)
Humorous stories, English; Short stories
'I'm going to pretend we have been captured by brigands,' said Peter at
last. 'Are you listening? There were three of them, great big men with
beards, and they crept up behind me and snatched me up and took me out
here to their lair. This is their lair. One was called Dick, the
others' names were Ted and Alfred. They took hold of me and brought me
all the way through the wood till we got here, and then they went off,
meaning to come back soon. And while they were away, you missed me and
tracked me through the woods till you found me here. And then the
brigands came back, and they didn't know you were here, and you kept
quite quiet till Dick was quite near, and then you jumped out and bit
him and he ran away. And then you bit Ted and you bit Alfred, and they
ran away too. And so we were left all alone, and I was quite safe
because you were here to look after me. And then--And then--'
His voice died away, and the arm that was round my neck went limp, and
I could hear by his breathing that he was asleep. His head was resting
on my back, but I didn't move. I wriggled a little closer to make him
as comfortable as I could, and then I went to sleep myself.
I didn't sleep very well. I had funny dreams all the time, thinking
these little animals were creeping up close enough out of the bushes
for me to get a snap at them without disturbing Peter.
If I woke once, I woke a dozen times, but there was never anything
there. The wind sang in the trees and the bushes rustled, and far away
in the distance the frogs were calling.
And then I woke once more with the feeling that this time something
really was coming through the bushes. I lifted my head as far as I
could, and listened. For a little while nothing happened, and then,
straight in front of me, I saw lights. And there was a sound of
trampling in the undergrowth.
It was no time to think about not waking Peter. This was something
definite, something that had to be attended to quick. I was up with a
jump, yelling. Peter rolled off my back and woke up, and he sat there
listening, while I stood with my front paws on him and shouted at the
men. I was bristling all over. I didn't know who they were or what they
wanted, but the way I looked at it was that anything could happen in
those woods at that time of night, and, if anybody was coming along to
start something, he had got to reckon with me.
Somebody called, 'Peter! Are you there, Peter?'
There was a crashing in the bushes, the lights came nearer and nearer,
and then somebody said 'Here he is!' and there was a lot of shouting. I
stood where I was, ready to spring if necessary, for I was taking no
chances.
'Who are you?' I shouted. 'What do you want?' A light flashed in my
eyes.
'Why, it's that dog!'
Somebody came into the light, and I saw it was the boss. He was looking
very anxious and scared, and he scooped Peter up off the ground and
hugged him tight.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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