Up the Hill and Over | Page 3

cannot allow you to use this pump!" said a crisp voice
primly. "This is not," with capital letters, "a Public Pump!"
Callandar wiped the surplus water from his face and looked up. There,
beside him in the yellow haze of his semi-blindness, stood the owner of
the voice. She appeared to be clothed in white, tall and commanding.
Surrounded by the luminous mist, her appearance was not unlike that of
a cool and capable avenging angel.

"This pump," went on the angel with nice precision, "is not for the use
of pedestrians."
"Ah!" said the pedestrian.
"If you will continue down the road," the voice went on, "you will find,
when you reach the town, a public pump. You may use that."
The pedestrian, feeling dizzier than ever, sat down upon the pump
platform. It was wet and cool.
"The objection to that," he said wisely, "is simple. I cannot continue
down the road."
"I should like you to go at once," patiently. "There is a pump--"
The pedestrian raised a deprecating hand.
"Let us admit the pump! Doubtless the pump is there, but there is a
pump here also, and a pump in the hand is worth two pumps, an
ice-box and a John Collins in town. You doubtless know the situation
created by Mahomet and the mountain? This is the same, with a
difference. In this case the pump will not come to me and I cannot go to
the pump. Therefore we both remain in statu quo. Do I make myself
plain?"
Apparently he did, for there was no answer. Logic, he concluded, had
achieved its usual triumph. The avenging angel had withdrawn.
Blissfully he stooped again, closing his eyes to the cool drip of the
water, but scarcely had they felt its chill relief when a sharp bark
caused them to fly open with disconcerting suddenness--the avenging
angel had returned, and with her was an avenging dog! Seen through
the mist, the dog appeared to be a bull pup of ferocious aspect.
"I am sorry," the cool voice had no ruth in it, "but it is my duty not to
allow tramps upon these grounds. If you will not go, I must ask the
dog--"

"ASK the dog!" In spite of his aching head the tramp (now no longer
pedestrian) laughed weakly.
"Oh, please don't ask him!" he entreated. "He looks too awfully willing!
Besides, I begin to perceive that my presence is not desired. Naturally I
scorn to remain."
Very slowly he raised himself from the damp pump platform by means
of the red pump-handle. In this manner he achieved an upright position
without much difficulty and all might have gone well had he behaved
like a proper tramp. But forgetting himself, under the tyranny of
training and instinct, he attempted, in deference to the sex of the angel,
to raise his hat (which was not on his head anyway). In so doing he
released the red pump-handle, lost his balance, struggled wildly to
regain it, and then collapsed with a terrible sense of failure and
ignominy, right into the open jaws, as it were, of the avenging dog!
CHAPTER II
He had a fancy that something cool and kind was licking his hand....
It felt like the tongue of a friendly dog. He seemed to have been
dreaming about dogs. Something soft and cold lay on his head. It felt
like a wet handkerchief ... the pain had dulled to a slow throbbing ... if
he opened his eyes he would know who licked his hand and what it was
that lay upon his head ... on the other hand, opening his eyes might
bring back the pain. It seemed hardly worth the risk ... still, he would
very much like to know--
Without being able to decide the question, he fell asleep.
When he awoke, his head was clear and the pain was gone. He felt no
longer unbearably tired, but only comfortably weary, deliciously
drowsy. Had he been at home in his own bed he would have turned
over and gone cheerfully to sleep again. As it was, he opened his eyes
with a zestful sense of curiosity.
He was lying, very easily, upon soft grass. Above him spread the thick

greenery of a giant maple; his head rested upon a cushion and close
beside him, with comforting nose thrust into his open palm, lay a
ferocious-looking bull pup. The pup grinned with delight at his
tentative pat; barked fiercely, and then grinned again as if to say, "Don't
mind me, it's only my fun!"
There was a noise somewhere, a loud, cheerful noise--the noise of
children playing. Not one child, nor two, but children--lots of them!
This was perplexing; and another perplexing thing was the nearness of
a white stoop which led up to