Finley Peter Dunne - "Observations by Mr. Dooley"

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Jean de La Fontaine - "The Tales and Novels, v23: The River Scamander &c."

New Philadelphia Book Publisher Highlights Local Talent
Book and Publishing News from Publishers Newswire(tm)

Looking for Child to be on Cover of a New Book, 'The Model Child'
PHILADELPHIA, Pa. -- The Philadelphia literary world will celebrate the launch of two new players today, April 10th: Kay Square Press, a new publishing company focused on Philadelphia-area artists, their stories, and their art; and Kay Square's first release, 'With the Rich and Mighty: Emlen Etting of Philadelphia' (ISBN: 978-0-9815129-0-7), a critical biography by Kenneth C. Kaleta.

FlatSigned Press Alleges Don Imus Remarks Damage Legacy of President Gerald R. Ford
NEW YORK, N.Y. -- Nathan Yungerberg, an accomplished model scout and professional child photographer is launching a nation-wide casting call to find the cover model for his highly anticipated book release, 'The Model Child: A Parents Guide to the Child Modeling Industry' (ISBN: 978-0-9817018-0-6).

Books: The Reign Of Terror

G >> G. A. Henty >> The Reign Of Terror




Looking round in astonishment to discover the cause of her terror,
Harry saw a large wolf-hound running towards them at a trot. Its
tongue was hanging out, and there was a white foam on its jaws. He
had heard M. du Tillet tell the marquis on the previous day that
this dog, which was a great favourite, seemed strange and unquiet,
and he had ordered it to be chained up. It had evidently broken
its fastening, for it was dragging a piece of chain some six feet
long behind It.


It flashed across him at once that the animal was mad, but without
an instant's hesitation he dashed off at full speed and threw himself
in front of the ladies before the dog reached them. Snatching off
his coat, and then kneeling on one knee, he awaited the animal's
attack. Without deviating from its course the hound sprang at him
with a short snarling howl. Harry threw his coat over its head and
then grasped it round the neck.

The impetus of the spring knocked him over, and they rolled together
on the ground. The animal struggled furiously, but Harry retained
his grasp round its neck. In vain the hound tried to free itself
from its blinding encumbrance, or to bite his assailant through
it, and struggled to shake off his hold with its legs and claws.
Harry maintained his grasp tightly round its neck, with his head
pressed closely against one of its ears. Several times they rolled
over and over. At last Harry made a great effort when he was
uppermost, and managed to get his knees upon the animal's belly, and
then, digging his toes in the ground, pressed with all his weight
upon it.

There was a sound as of cracking of bones, then the dog's struggles
suddenly ceased, and his head fell over, and Harry rose to his
feet by the side of the dead hound just as a number of men, with
pitch-forks and other weapons, ran up to the spot from the stables,
while the marquis, sword in hand, arrived from the house.

The gouvernante, too, paralysed by fear, had stood close by with
her charges while the struggle was going on. Ernest had come up, and
was standing in front of his sisters, ready to be the next victim
if the dog had overpowered Harry. Less accustomed to running than
the English boy, and for a moment rooted to the ground with horror
at his sisters' danger, he had not arrived at the spot until the
struggle between Harry and the dog was half over, and had then seen
no way of rendering assistance; but believing that the dog was sure
to be the conqueror, he had placed himself before his sisters to
bear the brunt of the next assault.

Seeing at a glance that his daughters were untouched, the marquis
ran on to Harry, who was standing panting and breathless, and threw
his arms round him.

"My brave boy," he exclaimed, "you have saved my daughters from a
dreadful death by your courage and devotion. How can I and their
mother ever thank you? I saw it all from the terrace - the speed
with which you sprang to their assistance - the quickness of thought
with which you stripped off your coat and threw it over its head.
After that I could see nothing except your rolling over and over
in a confused mass. You are not hurt, I trust?"

"Not a bit, sir," Harry said.

"And you have killed it - wonderful!"

"There was nothing in that, sir. I have heard my father, who is a
doctor, say that a man could kill the biggest dog if he could get
it down on its back and kneel on it. So when I once managed to get
my knees on it I felt it was all right."

"Ah, it is all very well for you to speak as if it were nothing!"
the marquis said. "There are few men, indeed, who would throw
themselves in the way of a mad dog, especially of such a formidable
brute as that. You too have behaved with courage, my son, and I
saw you were ready to give your life for your sisters; but you had
not the quickness and readiness of your friend, and would have been
too late."

"It is true, father," Ernest said in a tone of humility. "I should
have been too late, and, moreover, I should have been useless, for
he would have torn me down in a moment, and then fallen upon my
sisters. "M. Sandwith," he said frankiy, "I own I have been wrong.
I have thought the games of which you spoke, and your fighting, rough
and barbarous; but I see their use now. You have put me to shame.
When I saw that dog I felt powerless, for I had not my sword with
me; but you - you rushed to the fight without a moment's hesitation,
trusting in your strength and your head. Yes, your customs have
made a man of you, while I am a boy still."

"You are very good to say so," Harry said; "but I am quite sure that
you would be just as quick and ready as me in most circumstances,
and if it had been a matter of swords, very much more useful; but I
am glad you see there is some advantage in our rough English ways."

The marquis had put his hand approvingly upon Ernest's shoulder
when he addressed Harry, and then turned to his daughters. The
governess had sunk fainting to the ground when she saw that the
danger was over. Virginie had thrown herself down and was crying
loudly; while Jeanne stood pale, but quiet, beside them.

The marquis directed one of the men to run up to the chateau and
bid a female servant bring down water and smelling-salts for the
governess, and then lifted Virginie up and tried to soothe her,
while he stretched out his other hand to Jeanne.

"You are shaken, my Jeanne," he said tenderly, "but you have borne
the trial well. I did not hear you cry out, though madame, and the
little one screamed loudly enough."

"I was frightened enough, father," she said simply, "but of course
I wasn't going to cry out; but it was very terrible; and oh, how
noble and brave he was! And you know, papa, I feel ashamed to think
how often I have been nearly laughing because he was awkward in
the minuet. I feel so little now beside him."

"You see, my dear, one must not judge too much by externals," her
father said soothingly as she hid her face against his coat, and he
could feel that she was trembling from head to foot. "Older people
than you often do so, and are sorry for it afterwards; but as I am
sure that you would never allow him to see that you were amused no
harm has been done."

"Shall I thank him, papa?"

"Yes, presently, my dear; he has just gone off with Ernest to see
them bury the dog."

This incident caused a considerable change in Harry's position in
the family. Previously he had been accepted in consequence of the
orders of the marquis. Although compelled to treat him as an equal
the two boys had in their hearts looked upon him as an inferior,
while the girls had regarded him as a sort of tutor of their
brothers, and thus as a creature altogether indifferent to them.
But henceforth he appeared in a different light. Ernest acted up to
the spirit of the words he had spoken at the time, and henceforth
treated him as a comrade to be respected as well as liked. He tried
to learn some of the English games, but as most of these required
more than two players he was forced to abandon them. He even asked
him to teach him to box, but Harry had the good sense to make
excuses for not doing so. He felt that Ernest was by no means his
match in strength, and that, with all his good-will, he would find
it difficult to put up good-naturedly with being knocked about. He
therefore said that it could not be done without boxing-gloves, and
these it would be impossible to obtain in France; and that in the
next place he should hardly advise him to learn even if he procured
the gloves, for that in such contests severe bruises often were
given.

"We think nothing of a black eye," he said laughing, "but I am
sure madame your mother would not be pleased to see you so marked;
besides, your people would not understand your motive in undertaking
so rough an exercise, and you might lose somewhat of their respect.
Be content, Count Ernest; you are an excellent swordsman, and
although I am improving under M. du Tillet's tuition I shall never
be your match. If you like; sometime when we are out and away
from observation we can take off our coats, and I can give you a
lesson in wrestling; it is a splendid exercise, and it has not the
disadvantages of boxing."

Little Jules looked up to Harry as a hero, and henceforth, when
they were together, gave him the same sort of implicit obedience
he paid to his elder brother. The ceremonious habits of the age
prevented anything like familiarity on the part of the younger
girls; but Jeanne and Virginie now always greeted him with a smile
when they met, and joined in conversation with him as with their
brothers in the evening.

The marquise, who had formerly protested, if playfully, against
her husband's whim in introducing an English boy into their family
circle, now regarded him with real affection, only refraining from
constant allusions to the debt she considered she owed him because
she saw that he really shrank from the subject.

The marquis shortly after this incident went to Paris for a fortnight
to ascertain from his friends there the exact position of things.
He returned depressed and angry.

The violence of the Assembly had increased from day to day. The
property of all the convents had been confiscated, and this measure
had been followed by the seizure of the vast estates of the church.
All the privileges of the nobility had been declared at an end,
and in August a decree had been passed abolishing all titles of
nobility. This decree had taken effect in Paris and in the great
towns, and also in some parts of the country where the passions of
the people were most aroused against the nobility; but in Burgundy
it had remained a dead letter. The Marquis de St. Caux was popular
upon his estates, and no one had ever neglected to concede to
him and to the marquise their titles. He himself had regarded the
decree with disdain. "They may take away my estates by force," he
said, "but no law can deprive me of my title, any more than of the
name which I inherited from my fathers. Such laws as these are mere
outbursts of folly."

But the Assembly continued to pass laws of the most sweeping
description, assuming the sovereign power, and using it as no
monarch of France had ever ventured to do. Moderate men were shocked
at the headlong course of events, and numbers of those who at the
commencement of the movement had thrown themselves heart and soul
into it now shrank back in dismay at the strange tyranny which was
called liberty.

"It seems to me that a general madness has seized all Paris," the
marquis said to his wife on his return, "but at present nothing can
be done to arrest it. I have seen the king and queen. His majesty is
resolved to do nothing; that is, to let events take their course,
and what that will be Heaven only knows. The Assembly has taken
all power into its hands, the king is already a mere cipher, the
violence of the leaders of these men is beyond all bounds; the
queen is by turns hot and cold, at one moment she agrees with her
husband that the only hope lies in conceding everything; at another
she would go to the army, place herself in its hands, and call on
it to march upon Paris.

"At anyrate there is nothing to be done at present but to wait.
Already numbers of the deputies, terrified at the aspect of affairs,
have left France, and I am sorry to say many of the nobles have
also gone. This is cowardice and treachery to the king. We cannot
help him if he will not be helped, but it is our duty to remain
here ready to rally round him when he calls us to his side. I am
glad that the Assembly has passed a law confiscating the estates
of all who have emigrated."

Although the marquise was much alarmed at the news brought by her
husband she did not think of questioning his decision. It did not
seem to her possible that there could be danger for her and hers
in their quiet country chateau. There might be disturbance and
bloodshed, and even revolution, in Paris; but surely a mere echo
of this would reach them so far away.

"Whenever you think it is right to go up and take your place by
the king I will go and take mine by the queen," she said quietly.
"The children will be safe here; but of course we must do our duty."

The winter passed quietly at the chateau; there was none of the
usual gaiety, for a deep gloom hung over all the noble families
of the province; still at times great hunting parties were got up
for the chase of the wolves among the forests, for, when the snow
was on the ground, these often came down into the villages and
committed great depredations.



CHAPTER III The Demon Wolf


Upon the first of these occasions Harry and Ernest were in high
spirits, for they were to take part in the chase. It was the first
time that Ernest had done so, for during the previous winter the
marquis had been in attendance on the court. At an early hour the
guests invited to take part in the chase began to assemble at the
chateau. Many who lived at a distance had come overnight, and
the great court-yard presented a lively aspect with the horses
and attendants of the guests. A collation was spread in the great
hall, and the marquise and her eldest daughter moved about among
the guests saying a few words of welcome to each.

"Who is that young man who is talking to mademoiselle your sister,
Ernest?" Harry asked, for since the adventure with the mad dog the
ceremonious title had been dropped, and the boys addressed each
other by their Christian names.

"That is Monsieur Lebat; he is the son of the Mayor of Dijon. I
have not see him here before, but I suppose my father thinks it is
well in these times to do the civil thing to the people of Dijon.
He is a good-looking fellow too, but it is easy to see he is not
a man of good family."

"I don't like his looks at all," Harry said shortly. "Look what a
cringing air he puts on as he speaks to madame Ia marquise. And yet
I fancy he could be insolent when he likes. He may be good-looking,
but it is not a style I admire, with his thick lips and his
half-closed eyes. If I met him at home I should say the fellow was
something between a butcher and a Jew pedlar."

"Well done, monsieur the aristocrat!" Ernest said laughing. "This
is your English equality! Here is a poor fellow who is allowed to
take a place our of his station, thanks to the circumstances of
the time, and you run him down mercilessly!"

"I don't run him down because he is not a gentleman," Harry said.
"I run him down because I don't like his face; and if he were the
son of a duke instead of the son of a mayor I should dislike it
just as much. You take my word for it, Ernest, that's a bad fellow."

"Poor Monsieur Lebat!" Ernest laughed. "I daresay he is a very
decent fellow in his way.

"I am sure he is not, Ernest; he has a cruel bad look. I would not
have been that fellow's fag at school for any money.

"Well, it's fortunate, Harry, that you are not likely to see much
of him, else I should expect to see you flying at his neck and
strangling him as you did the hound."

Harry joined in the laugh.

"I will restrain myself, Ernest; and besides, he would be an awkward
customer; there's plenty of strength in those shoulders of his, and
he looks active and sinewy in spite of that indolent air he puts
on; but there is the horn, it is time for us to mount."

In a few minutes some thirty gentlemen were in the saddle, the
marquis, who was grand louvetier of the province, blew his horn,
and the whole cavalcade got into motion, raising their hunting
caps, as they rode off, to the marquise and her daughters, who were
standing on the step of the chateau to see them depart. The dogs
had already been sent forward to the forest, which was some miles
distant.

On arriving there the marquis found several woodmen, who had been
for the last two days marking the places most frequented by the
wolves. They had given their reports and the party were just starting
when a young forester rode up.

"Monsieur le marquis," he said, "I have good news for you; the demon
wolf is in the forest. I saw him making his way along a glade an
hour since as I was on my way thither. I turned back to follow him,
and tracked him to a ravine in the hills choked with undergrowth."

The news created great excitement.

"The demon wolf!" the marquis repeated. "Are you sure?"

"Quite sure, monsieur. How could I mistake it! I saw him once four
years ago, and no one who had once done so could mistake any other
wolf for him."

"We are in luck indeed, gentlemen," the marquis said. "We will see
if we can't bring this fellow's career to an end at last. I have
hunted him a score of times myself since my first chase of him,
well-nigh fifteen years ago, but he has always given us the slip."

"And will again," an old forester, who was standing close to Harry,
muttered. "I do not believe the bullet is cast which will bring
that wolf to earth."

"What is this demon wolf?" Harry asked Ernest.

"It is a wolf of extraordinary size and fierceness. For many years
he has been the terror of the mothers of this part of France. He
has been known to go into a village and boldly carry off an infant
in mid-day. Every child who has been killed by wolves for years is
always supposed to have been slain by this wolf. Sometimes he is
seen in one part of the province, and sometimes in another.

"For months he is not heard of. Then there is slaughter among the
young lambs. A child going to school, or an old woman carrying
home a faggot from the forest is found torn and partly devoured,
and the news spreads that the demon wolf has returned to the
neighbourhood. Great hunts have over and over again been got up
specially to slay him, but he seems to lead a charmed life. He has
been shot at over and over again, but he seems to be bullet-proof.

"The peasants regard him not as an ordinary wolf but as a demon,
and mothers quiet their children when they cry by saying that if
they are not good the demon wolf will carry them off. Ah, if we
could kill him to-day it would be a grand occasion!"

"Is there anything particular about his appearance?"

"Nothing except his size. Some of those who have seen him declare
that he is as big as three ordinary wolves; but my father, who has
caught sight of him several times, says that this is an exaggeration,
though he is by far the largest wolf he ever saw. He is lighter in
colour than other wolves, but those who saw him years ago say that
this was not the case then, and that his light colour must be due
to his great age."

The party now started, under the guidance of the forester, to the
spot where he had seen the wolf enter the underwood.

It was the head of a narrow valley. The sides which inclosed it
sloped steeply, but not too much so for the wolf to climb. During
the last halt the marquis had arranged the plan of action. He
himself, with three of the most experienced huntsmen, took their
stations across the valley, which was but seventy or eighty yards
wide. Eight of the others were to dismount and take post on either
side of the ravine.

"I am sorry, gentlemen, that I cannot find posts for the rest of
you, but you may have your share of the work. Over and over again
this wolf has slipped away when we thought we had him surrounded,
and what he has done before he may do again. Therefore, let each of
you take up such a position as he thinks best outside our circle,
but keeping well behind trees or other shelter, so as to cover
himself from any random shot that may be fired after the wolf. Do
you, on your part, fire only when the wolf has passed your line,
or you may hit some of us."

The two lads were naturally among those left out from the inner
circle.

"What do you think, Ernest; shall we remain on our horses here in
the valley or climb the hills?"

"I should say wait here, Harry; in the first place, because it
is the least trouble, and in the second, because I think he is as
likely to come this way as any other. At any rate we may as well
dismount here, and let horses crop that piece of fresh grass until
we hear the horn that will tell us when the dogs have been turned
into the thicket to drive him out."

It was half an hour before they heard the distant note of the horn.

"They have begun," Ernest exclaimed; "we had better mount at once.
If the brute is still there he is just as likely, being such an
old hand at the sport, to make a bolt at once, instead of waiting
until the dogs are close to him."

"What are we to do if we see him?" Harry asked.

"We are to shoot him if we can. If we miss him, or he glides past
before we can get a shot, we must follow shouting, so as to guide
the rest as to the direction he is taking."

"My chance of hitting him is not great," Harry said. "I am not a
very good shot even on my feet; but sitting in my saddle I do not
think it likely I should get anywhere near him."

A quarter of an hour passed. The occasional note of a dog and the
shouts of the men encouraging them to work their way through the
dense thicket could be heard, but no sound of a shot met their
ears.

"Either he is not there at all, or he is lying very close," Ernest
said.

"Look, look!" Harry said suddenly, pointing through the trees to
the right.

"That is the wolf, sure enough," Ernest exclaimed. "Come along."

The two lads spurred their horses and rode recklessly through the
trees towards the great gray beast, who seemed to flit like a shadow
past them.

"Mind the boughs, Ernest, or you will be swept from your saddle.
Hurrah! The trees are more open in front."

But although the horses were going at the top of their speed they
scarcely seemed to gain on the wolf, who, as it seemed to them,
kept his distance ahead without any great exertion.

"We shall never catch him," Harry exclaimed after they had ridden
for nearly half an hour, and the laboured panting of the horses
showed that they could not long maintain the pace.

Suddenly, ten yards ahead of the wolf, a man, armed with
a hatchet, stepped out from behind a tree directly in its way. He
was a wood-cutter whose attention being called by the sound of the
galloping feet of the horses, had left his half-hewn tree and stepped
out to see who was coming. He gave an exclamation of surprise and
alarm as he saw the wolf, and raised his hatchet to defend himself.
Without a moment's hesitation the animal sprang upon him and
carried him to the ground, fixing its fangs into his throat. There
was a struggle for a few moments, and then the wolf left its lifeless
foe and was about to continue its flight.

"Get ready to fire, Harry," Ernest exclaimed as the wolf sprang
upon the man, "it is our last chance. If he gets away now we shall
never catch him."

They reined in their horses just as the wolf rose to fly. Harry
fired first, but the movement of his panting horse deranged his aim
and the bullet flew wide. More accustomed to firing on horseback,
Ernest's aim was truer, he struck the wolf on the shoulder, and
it rolled over and over. With a shout of triumph the boys dashed
forward, but when they were within a few paces the wolf leapt
to its feet and endeavoured to spring towards them. Harry's horse
wheeled aside so sharply that he was hurled from the saddle.

The shock was a severe one, and before he could rise to his
feet the wolf was close upon him. He tried as he rose to draw his
hunting-sword, but before he could do so, Ernest, who had, when he
saw him fall, at once leaped from his horse, threw himself before
him, and dealt the wolf a severe blow on the head with his weapon.

Furious with rage and pain the wolf sprang upon him and seized
him by the shoulder. Ernest dropped his sword, and drawing his
hunting-knife struck at it, while at the same moment Harry ran it
through the body.

So strong and tenacious of life was the animal that the blows
were repeated several times before it loosed its hold of Ernest's
shoulder and fell dead.

"Are you hurt, my dear Ernest?" was Harry's first exclamation.

"Oh, never mind that, that's nothing," Ernest replied. "Only think,
Harry, you and I have killed the demon wolf, and no else had a hand
in it. There is a triumph for us."

"The triumph is yours, Ernest," Harry said. "He would have got away
had you not stopped him with your bullet, and he would have made
short work of me had you not come to my rescue, for I was half
stunned with the fall, and he would have done for me as quickiy as
he did for that poor fellow there."

"That is true, Harry, but it was you who gave him his mortal wound.
He would have mastered me otherwise. He was too strong for me, and
would have borne me to the ground. No, it's a joint business, and
we have both a right to be proud of it. Now let us fasten him on my
horse; but before we do that, you must bind up my shoulder somehow.
In spite of my thick doublet he has bit me very sharply. But first
let us see to this poor fellow. I fear he is dead."

It was soon seen that nothing could be done for the woodman, who
had been killed almost instantly. Harry, therefore, proceeded to
cut off Ernest's coat-sleeve and bathed the wound. The flesh was
badly torn, and the arm was so useless that he thought that some
bones were broken. Having done his best to bandage the wound,
he strapped the arm firmly across the body, so as to prevent its
being shaken by the motion of the riding. It was with the greatest
difficulty that they were able to lift the body of the wolf, but
could not lay it across the horse, as the animal plunged and kicked
and refused to allow it to be brought near. Ernest was able to
assist but little, for now that the excitement was over he felt
faint and sick with the pain of his wound.