Dick Lionheart | Page 9

I suppose? Ah well, a fair's no good without
money to spend. So take this and jump up. Boxer will be all right when
he's had a bite from his nose-bag."
The inside of the van was like a cave, and the narrow seat that ran
round the inside was packed with country folks and their baskets and
parcels, going to the fair. Clean straw carpeted the floor, and a tiny
glass window at the back, six inches square, let in a few murky rays of
daylight. Two schoolboys shared the front seat with the driver, but he
made a few inches of room for Dick, and Pat snuggled down
contentedly at his feet.
The women inside talked loudly of their feelings when Boxer bolted,
but the driver still looked pale and anxious, and Dick, feeling shaken
now the strain was over, was very glad to lean back against the side and
rest. Mile after mile they rumbled on, leaving the canal with its barges
behind, and the low lying meadows with their fringes of elm and
willow.
Sometimes the way lay through narrow lanes, where the branches
almost met overhead, and the tangled hedgerows swept the canvas roof;
and sometimes the road wound upwards, and Boxer plodded from side
to side taking a zigzag course to ease the climbing, while Dick rested
luxuriously and dreamed of Ironboro'. Gradually the way became less
lonely, carts and waggons and droves of sheep were passed and houses
were more frequently seen by the wayside, and from these groups of
children came, talking joyously about the fair and counting their
pennies as they went along.
Half-a-mile from the little town they had to wait. A gaily painted group
of show waggons filled the roadway, for one of these had broken down,
and for a time nothing could pass by.
There was a great noise of talking and shouting orders, and one big
man, with tiny corkscrew curls of very black hair and silver rings in his
ears and a coat of faded velveteen, stood close by the carrier's waggon
and ordered others to do his bidding.

Pat was broad awake now, and when the carrier, seeing they would
have to wait awhile, took out a lunch of bread and meat and began to
cut it with a pocket knife, the dog stood on his hind legs and begged in
his most insinuating way.
"He's as smart as his master," said the carrier, laughing, while the
gipsy-like man turned and glanced keenly at the van.
"Does he know any more tricks?" asked one of the boys eagerly.
Dick bent down and whispered something to Pat, and he threw back his
head, half shut his eyes, and gave vent to a succession of shrill howls
that were the best music his voice was capable of, while his master
whistled the air of "Killarney" as an accompaniment.
Everybody laughed, and then Pat made a funny little bow and held up
his paw to shake hands.
"How much do you want for him?" said the showman in the velveteen
coat. "I'm looking out for a smart little terrier to guard my show. I
wouldn't mind a couple of shillings."
"He's not for sale, thank you," answered Dick politely.
"Nonsense! Every dog has a price, and most likely you've picked him
up somewhere underhanded. So come along."
Dick flushed scarlet at the insult and again said "No!" decidedly.
The man turned and whispered something to a girl in an orange scarf
and black and green frock, who had come out of the show waggon, and
she tossed her head and laughed merrily. But now the broken caravan
was pulled aside and the road was partly clear again, and the carrier
drove on, and soon with a mighty flourish of the reins he stopped in
front of the "George Inn" at Weyn, and everyone got down.
CHAPTER V.

PAT LOST AND FOUND.
For two days in the year at the annual fair, the quiet little town of Weyn
gave itself up to merrymaking. Shows and caravans choked the narrow
streets; huge roundabouts as "patronised by all the crowned heads of
Europe," swung giddily round in the market-place, and the shouts of
the stall-keepers, and the din of the orchestra, and the ceaseless crack of
the rifle ranges, where boys were shooting for cocoa-nuts, made a noise
that was almost deafening.
The piles of gingerbread and coloured rock on the stalls looked very
tempting, and Dick, with Pat in his arms, and three-and-ninepence in
his pocket, felt rich as he walked by. But though he liked sweet things,
all the more because he had had so few to enjoy, he would not be
tempted to buy.
"Don't believe Lionheart had cakes and candy--not when he was on the
crusades, anyhow. It must