I did not like it, I can tell you; for there was neither stick nor stone about, and I knew that the brute was dangerous.  The Major was shrieking to it from behind, and I think that the creature thought that he was hallooing it on, so furiously did it rush.  But I knew its name, and I thought that maybe that might give me the privileges of acquaintanceship; so as it came at me with bristling hair and its nose screwed back between its two red eyes, I cried out “Bounder!  Bounder!” at the pitch of my lungs.  It had its effect, for the beast passed me with a snarl, and flew along the path on the traces of Bonaventure de Lapp.

He turned at the shouting, and seemed to take in the whole thing at a glance; but he strolled along as slowly as ever.  My heart was in my mouth for him, for the dog had never seen him before; and I ran as fast as my feet would carry me to drag it away from him.  But somehow, as it bounded up and saw the twittering finger and thumb which de Lapp held out behind him, its fury died suddenly away, and we saw it wagging its thumb of a tail and clawing at his knee.

“Your dog then, Major?” said he, as its owner came hobbling up.  “Ah, it is a fine beast—­a fine, pretty thing!”

The Major was blowing hard, for he had covered the ground nearly as fast as I.

“I was afraid lest he might have hurt you,” he panted.

“Ta, ta, ta!” cried de Lapp.  “He is a pretty, gentle thing; I always love the dogs.  But I am glad that I have met you, Major; for here is this young gentleman, to whom I owe very much, who has begun to think that I am a spy.  Is it not so, Jack?”

I was so taken aback by his words that I could not lay my tongue to an answer, but coloured up and looked askance, like the awkward country lad that I was.

“You know me, Major,” said de Lapp, “and I am sure that you will tell him that this could not be.”

“No, no, Jack!  Certainly not! certainly not!” cried the Major.

“Thank you,” said de Lapp.  “You know me, and you do me justice.  And yourself, I hope that your knee is better, and that you will soon have your regiment given you.”

“I am well enough,” answered the Major; “but they will never give me a place unless there is war, and there will be no more war in my time.”

“Oh, you think that!” said de Lapp with a smile.  “Well, nous verrons! We shall see, my friend!”

He whisked off his hat, and turning briskly he walked off in the direction of West Inch.  The Major stood looking after him with thoughtful eyes, and then asked me what it was that had made me think that he was a spy.  When I told him he said nothing, but he shook his head, and looked like a man who was ill at ease in his mind.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE COMING OF THE CUTTER.