Evening Star Newspaper, March 17, 1935, Page 88

» f broke from the waterside. sk Both dogs made after her. - Bandog- A Pilgrim “Jan. 12, 1621. -— And another thing did terrify them very much. They heard as they thought two lions roaring exceedingly for a long time logether and @ third that they thought was very near them. — And the bitch they were fain to hold by the neck for she would have gone to the lion.”” G. Mourt. New England Relation. HERE was a spaniel dog aboard the Mayflower and a mastiff bitch. The spaniel was known as Tray and the mastiff as Bandog. Both animals suffered from seasickness, but Bandog suffered from hunger as well. Friendly little Tray had the freedom of the ship and was fed by everyone, but fierce Bandog was kept chained, and as she was no one's charge and would tolerate no one's touch, she fared scantily and grew thin and morose. When the ship anchored in Plymouth Bay. it was a problem how to put the fearsome beast ashore without someone's getting bitten, and the problem was solved not by the Pil- grims but by Bandog, herself. During the more than four-month voyage, she had been tugging persistently on the eye-balt to which her chain was hooked. On the twelfth of January. she finally freed the bolt from the deck-beam, leaped into the bay, and headed for the distant beach. Those Pilgrims not yet too ill to work were ashore putting the finishing touches to the Common House and they were informed that Bandog was free, by hearing her give an angry yelp on the beach. There they beheld her shaking herself so violently that her chain was slashing her, and thenshe plunged toward them and the men scattered like wind- driven spume. On she came, the chain twisting round her legs until, mercifully, the eye-bolt caught on a sassafras stub and held. An anxious audience watched the straining mastiff. Then Peter Browne came from behind a pile of logs. He was a huge, lean young man, not unlike Bandog in a certain magnificent ugliness. Peter, with John Goodman, and two others, were going up the brook to cut thatch. Armed with his sickle, Peter felt an access of courage and pity. “She’s not mad! She’s afeared!" he cried. ~ "“See, the chain's drawed blood.” He dared approach Bandog and, like lightning, loose the chain from her collar. Before he leaped away, she took a quick sniff at his hand and gave him a quick look. Then she was off to the woods like the wind. Work was resumed on the house. Followed by Tray, Peter and his companions walked a mile and a half up the brook and there cut thatch, bulrushes and sedge, until the supply was exhausted. Then Peter and John went to look for more thatching material. After an hour of fruitless seeking they decided to give - ™ -t 'S WEEK by HONORE MORROW Who tells here, for the first ime, the story of a long neglected hero of the Mayflower over and eat their dinners and, while eating, to take a look at the countryside. So, gnawing on great collops of salt beef, the two left the brook for the forest, and very shortly came on a pretty little lake. Here Tray gave a delighted bark. He had discovered Bandog! She was crouched beneath a willow tree, de- vouring a rabbit. While the men stood uncertain whether to advance or retreat, a full-antlered deer broke from the waterside and both dogs, giving tongue, made after the beautiful creature. Fresh meat was starving scarce on the Mayflower, and seven Pilgrims already were dead of the scurvy. The men rushed after the dogs. Shortly it came on to rain. After the first moment they could not catch sight of the dogs, could only hear Bandog’'s far baying and Tray’s yip-yipping. Their fustian, rotted by sea-water, was little protection against thorns or weather. They had no weapons but their sickles. It was not long before they recognized their folly and sought to recall the dogs. But these were beyond the shrillest whistle, and the men turned back without them. An hour passed and they had not re-dis- covered the little lake. The rain changed to snow. But they crashed on through the brush, cheering each other and, not till early twilight approached, admitting that they were lost. Even then they were not despondent, for Tray returned to them, a very wet and weary little dog. “Mayhap Tray can lead us home," sug- gested John, hopefully. ‘“‘Aye!" agreed Peter. ‘*But there be Indians in these woods! And lions too!"’ He pointed at glaring eyes, at a shadowy form deep in a hazel clump. They turned to run toward a spruce thicket. But from beyond the thicket suddenly rose a strange maniacal roar. As they halted, panic-stricken, the form 1n the hazel bush emerged and shot past them. It was Bandog! ‘““Twas a lion! He'll eat her! Here, Bandog' Here!" shouted Peter. “1'd rather have a lion's roar at my back than her fangs,"" protested John. “‘She won't come, never fear!"”’ But she did come! She walked very cau- tiously across the little clearing. She sniffed at Peter’s sodden shoes and hosen, at his snow- caked doublet and then, with a whine, she licked Peter's hand, put her nose into his palm and shoved it gently. “She wants 'ee to pat her, fool!” John's voice was excited. ‘‘I'd rather pat the lions, myself, but you, she —" Peter was rubbing the great head, smooth- ing the rough wet coat. ‘‘Good Bandog! Sweet Bandog!" Bandog leaned against him in ecstasy. Then the lion roared again, and she shot away. “Call her back!" shouted John. “‘Can’t ye control your dog?” “My dog!" ejaculated Peter. ‘‘Aye! I be- lieve she has chose me!” He called and Bandog came back all of a pleasant bustle as if she'd been gone a week. She pawed Peter but, to his relief, ignored John. Peter held to her collar and she sat on her haunches, obediently, until the lion, circling with other lions, again menaced them. Then she tried to free herself but Peter clung to her and, after a moment, she submitted herself to his control. But she lifted her mighty voice in such dire threats that the dread chorus in the woods drew no closer. The men’s panic subsided somewhat before the mastiff’s courage. They agreed that if the lions attacked in spite of Bandog, they would climb the walnut tree under which they were standing and that until this painful moment arrived, they must walk up and down lest March 17, 1935 } Illustrated by Paul Bransom they perish with the cold. So .hey began an endless pacing, with snow descending steadily and all the forest silent save for that deadly intermittent howling beyond the spruce trees Pretty little Tray was afraid and quivered in John’s arms or shivered against his tor- tured, frost-bitten feet. But Bandog stalked valiantly beside Peter, and the night settled into a grievous rhythm, silence and the snow fall, then the outcry of the melancholy obscene ghosts surrounding them, then Bandog's superb bark, full of dreadful melody and ending always on a lifting note as if she demanded, ‘Do ve dare’" As the frigid hours crept on, the men re- alized that if the lions did dare, their numbed hands and legs would refuse to lift their all but helpless bodies to the branches above. And so till their very voices failed them, they en- couraged the mastiff. ‘‘Good sweet pup! Bay them well, lass! Tell them you have the heart of forty lions though we be mere sick kittens." And faithfully did Bandog guard and, for unreckoned hours, no lion took her dare. But at last, a single one of the voices drew nearer and became a snarl of anticipation in the hazel bush. Then Bandog broke from Peter's feeble grip. There was a shriek in the bush and a rush of retreat. Peter called and, after a moment, Bandog returned, still growling. But she had routed the enemy for good. There was silence until dawn. And as the sun came up, the snowfall ceased. And now small Tray came to life. He barked encouragingly, wagged hfs tail, and set off resolutely through the forest. Mayhap he could lead them home'! They staggered after him. John's feet were twin agonies. The ter- rible cold had brought out the scorbutic weakness in both men. They were a little light-headed or they had not so readily fol- lowed Tray's winding course through miles of woods. But follow they did, with Bandog on a thatch-cord pulling Peter as Peter supported John. In the afternoon, Tray, now all aweary, led them painfully to the crest of a high hill. And * from this height they beheld the Mayflower, s anchored in Plymouth Bay! So they marked | a course and crept downward. And as dark- s ness fell, they staggered up to the hugeous * great fire which the anxious Pilgrims had . kindled on the beach. And little Tray went from friend to friend i and was smothered with kisses and crammed | with tid-bits. But Bandog sat on Peter Browne'’s feet and dared anyone to touch her or her beautiful, her beloved, her one and only g new-found master. t Howbeit, now the Pilgrims understood. And they gave her in gratitude the whole carcass ft of a seal which a sailor had captured, that ! day. and left her in a most admired peace. :e‘