T, Haviland Hicks, Jr.’s, dread of dogs, of
all sizes, shapes, pedigrees, and breeds, was well
known to old Bannister; hence, the Heavy-weights now
jeered him unmercifully. Old “Bildad,”
as the taciturn recluse was called, who lived like
a hermit and owned a rich farm, did own a massive bulldog,
and a sight of his cruel jaws was a “No Trespass”
sign. With great forethought, when cherries began
to ripen, the farmer had brought Caesar Napoleon to
the campus, exhibited him to the awed youths, and said,
“My cherries be for sale, not to
be stole!” which object lesson, brief
as it was, to date, had seemed to have the desired
effect. Yet—here was Butch proposing
that they literally thrust their heads, or other portions
of their anatomies, into the jaws of death!
“Well,” said Bunch Bingham at last, “I
tell you what; we’ll jog up to the house and
ask old Bildad to sell us some cherries;
we can pay him when he comes to the campus with eggs
to sell, Come along. Hicks, I’ll beard the
bulldog in his kennel.”
So, dragged along by the bulky hammer-throwers and
shot-putters, the protesting T. Haviland Hicks, Jr.,
in mortal terror of Caesar Napoleon, and the other
canine guardians of old Bildad’s property, progressed
up the lane toward the house.
“I got a hunch,” said the reluctant Hicks,
sadly, “that things ain’t a-comin’
out right! In the words of the immortal Somebody-Or-Other,
’This ‘ere ain’t none o’ my
doin’; it’s a-bein’ thrust on me!’
All right, my comrades, I’ll be the innocent
bystander, but heed me—look out for the
bulldog!”
CHAPTER XVI
THANKS TO CAESAR NAPOLEON
The Heavy-Weight-White-Hope-Brigade, towing the mosquito-like
T. Haviland Hicks, Jr., advanced on the stronghold
of old Bildad, so named because he was a pessimistic
Job’s comforter, like Bildad, the Shuhite, of
old—like a flock of German spies reconnoitering
Allied trenches. Hearing the house, with Butch
and Beef holding the helpless, but loudly protesting
Hicks, who would fain have executed what may mildly
be termed a strategic retreat, big Tug Cardiff boldly
marched, in close formation, toward the door, when
the portal suddenly flew open.
“Woof! Woof! Bow! Wow! Woof!
Let go, Butch—there’s the dog!”
Amid ferocious howls from Caesar Napoleon, and alarmed
protests from the paralyzed Hicks, who could not have
run, with his wobbly knees, had he been set free by
his captors, old Bildad, towed from the house by Caesar
Napoleon, who strained savagely at the leash until
his face bulged, burst upon the scene with impressive
dramatic effect! It was difficult to decide,
without due consideration, which was the more interesting.
Bildad, a huge, gnarled old Viking, with matted gray
hair, bushy eyebrows, a flowing beard, and leathery
face, a fierce-looking giant, was appalling to behold,
but so was Caesar Napoleon, an immense bulldog, cruel,
