The Barker's Dozen - Reminiscences of an Early Police Dog (9 page)

When my master ordered his supper, I decided to make my way to the kitchen and watch my own food being put out by the landlady. I was also thirsty
, so I decided to go by way of the stable yard and its horse trough. I had just finished drinking when I saw the landlord greeting two men who were standing in the yard.  Without thinking, I walked past the group on my way towards my supper. I almost stopped in my tracks when I recognised the voice of the man who had wanted to kill me.

The kitchen door was unfortunately closed
, so I sat down and waited for it to open. I did not bark, whine or scratch at it, because I did not want to draw attention to myself. While I waited, I listened to the poachers’ conversation with the landlord.

‘We are going to work the river tomorrow night.
Midnight at Staine’s Wood,’ one of the poachers said, ‘if you think it’s still safe’.

‘You don’t have to worry,’ the landlord replied. ‘I have persuaded the Inspector to spend tomorrow at
Locksy Castle. In the evening, he is having dinner at Arnston Hall. He won’t be here to see anything.’

‘I’m not so sure,’ said the second poacher. ‘Inspector Pendle was at Arnston Hall today. Apparently the two policemen are as thick as thieves.’

‘You worry too much,’ the landlord said. ‘Of course Inspector Pendle went to the Hall. What did you think would happen when someone tried to kill the water bailiff?’

‘Fred Wallace had the goods on us. If I hadn’t acted it would have been up for all of us,’ the second poacher replied with a rising level of belligerence.

At that moment, the kitchen door opened and I gratefully entered. Behind me I could hear the second poacher continuing, ‘I still think we should get rid of your guest. If you poisoned his dog tonight, the Inspector would leave tomorrow.’

The landlady who was in the act of putting my food bowl down heard these words. I saw in her face a sudden anger. She straightened up and went to the doorway. I, naturally, started on my food. One can, after all, eat and listen at the same time.

‘Tom Dawson,’ she snapped, ‘you will not harm that dog.  Fred Wallace would be dead if that dog hadn’t found him.’

‘A great pity that we didn’t poison it on the first day then, as I suggested
,’ Tom Dawson said. ‘If I had known that he would save Fred Wallace I would have poisoned him myself.’

‘Fred is a friend of mine
,’ the landlady said, continuing with touching simplicity. ‘Before Fred went with the army to India, there was talk of us marrying.  I tell you now -if Fred dies of his injuries, I will go to Inspector Pendle.’

‘Shut your woman up
!’ Tom Dawson shouted at the innkeeper. ‘If you don’t, I will make sure that you bitterly regret it.’

It was sheer bad luck that my attempts to get the last morsel out of food bowl caused it to grate on the flagstone floor. All three men heard it and turned towards me. Tom Dawson reached into his pocket and produced a piece of cloth. Everything went silent as he unwrapped the cloth and produced a piece of liver. With a false smile on his face
, he came towards me. The game, as they say, was definitely afoot.

‘Here boy,’ Tom Dawson said, in a horribly false voice
, ‘I bet you are still hungry. Here, have this lovely bit of liver.’

With that, he threw the liver towards me. I backed away.  The poacher picked it up again and placed it in my bowl.

‘Sorry, boy,’ he said. ‘I expect that a gentleman’s dog always eats from a bowl, don’t you?  I bet you love a nice piece of meat.’

Not likely, I thought
, not when it’s covered in some type of poison. I have seen the ugly results of several poisons and this little dog was not going to co-operate.

Tom Dawson obviously realised that I
wasn’t going to eat the liver. With a sudden lunge of his left hand he grabbed for my collar.

I jumped backward
, avoiding his hand by inches. With my hackles up I snarled at him, exposing my teeth. If he wanted to play rough, I was his dog.  I would willingly bet my teeth and claws against his fists and boots. At that point, he reached back into his pocket and produced a knife. This changed the odds drastically in his favour. All of the sudden the kitchen stopped being a safe refuge and became a trap.

I started barking; unfortunately, your uncle did not come running through the door. I looked around and saw that the landlady was being held back by her husband. I was on my own.

Suddenly Tom Dawson came at me. I turned and ran but felt his hand catch on my tail.  Frantically I span round and bit him hard on the wrist. He let go and cursed me in a loud voice. I used my temporary respite to back away.  I saw him smile and realised that I had managed to trap myself in the corner. He crouched down with his arms outspread and came on. There was only one way out. Using all the power in my legs, I jumped at him. The top of my head hit him under the jaw and he tumbled backwards, with me on his chest. His shoulders hit one of the legs of the table.

I saw something fall off the table. There was a massive crash of crockery and we were enveloped in a blinding cloud of white powder. With one more spring, I was free. I raced through the open door into the welcome darkness of the yard.

I saw another man in front of me and rather belatedly remembered the other poacher. He looked at me and screamed. Turning on his heel, he fled.

‘Tom’s killed the dog,’ he wailed, ‘and its ghost is after me. Run before you are all doomed
!’

Hearing this
, I realised the crash had been a flour crock falling off the table. Obviously, I was covered with flour and as I ran, grains were being shaken from my fur and catching the faint starlight. Now I am always prepared to join in, so as I ran I started to howl. I learned something that night that surprised me; a frightened poacher can outrun a Spaniel and jump seven-foot hedges to do it.

When my prey had made good his escape, I went down to the river for a quick swim before trotting back to the inn. Predictably, I met your uncle halfway back. He did not say anything, but he did reach down and pull my ears, which in another way said it all.

We returned to the inn to find that the company was laughing themselves hoarse over the actions of John Prior. It seemed that the innkeeper had dropped the flour, scaring the little dog, who had run, covered in flour, into the night. Poor John Prior had seen the apparition and run for it. I always find it really odd how events alter with the telling.

We went to bed soon afterwards. Your uncle
, as normal, quickly drifted off to sleep. As soon as I was sure he would not reawaken, I left my blanket and carefully got on to his bed. I sat there watching his face for over an hour before he started having a hunting dream. You can always tell this state of sleep because his eyes start moving rapidly behind their lids and often his hands and feet start twitching.

As soon as my master was in this state of sleep, I put my muzzle close to his ear and told him everything I had learnt. I spoke to him in clear English, as I am speaking to you now. When I had finished I told him twice more. Then I returned to my bed and went to sleep. This is a method I have often used to tell my master anything. As you will see, it always seems to work.

I woke up before dawn to go fishing with your uncle. I took it as a good omen that he caught a really nice fish within the first few minutes of trying. I was greatly encouraged when I heard him saying ‘Tom Dawson’ and ‘John Prior’ quietly to himself.

After breakfast my master and I went outside to find the innkeeper placing a hamper on a dog cart. With a few instructions, he waved us off and we left for a quiet day’s sightseeing.

Locksy Castle is built on a hill overlooking the river. It is constructed of a striking pink stone, which was obviously quarried from the moat. My master spent some time sketching a D-shaped bastion that he said was very unusual. I spent my time racing around, just enjoying the freedom. There were over a hundred steps up to the top of the tower, but the view was well worth it.

Having exhausted myself, I returned to your uncle in time to share the bounty of his hamper. Fortunately, there was enough for three because Inspector Pendle arrived during lunch. It was quickly apparent that Inspector Pendle had learnt nothing since we had seen him last. My master listened with some sympathy and then told him that as he had lain in his bed some of the gang had met under his window. He not only knew the time and place but he had the names of two of the gang members.

I knew that my method of telling your uncle would work. If you look back over the last ten years, a lot of villains have indiscreetly conversed under his window. If we both know better, why ruin it for him?

Inspector Pendle was highly delighted. The mention of Tom Dawson in particular caused him some pleasure. It turned out that Inspector Pendle had been after him for some years following an assault on a farmer’s son
-an attack where the profit of an entire market day had been stolen and the victim left senseless in a ditch.

We arranged that Inspector Pendle and some constables would meet us at Arnston Hall at
nine o’clock that night. They would ensure that they did not pass through Lower Swineford. We left the castle hoping that we would soon see the capture of the poachers.

Your uncle and I arrived back at the Red Lion in time for a quick tea, during which my master proudly displayed the watercolour that he had painted at the castle.

After the meal, we went down to the river for an hour’s fishing. I could tell that my master was pretending to be a totally relaxed fisherman. I am probably the only one who noticed that he did not put any bait on his hooks.

While we were constructively wasting time, my friend the swan went past and hissed confirmation of the location.  While we were there, I became aware that someone was watching us. Looking over my shoulder
, pretending to bite a flea, I saw my old friend Tom Dawson staring at us. He stood there on the bank glaring at us for five minutes while your uncle sat and contentedly smoked a pipe, before turning and striding off in the direction of the inn.

It was about
seven o’clock when a neat trap arrived with one of Lord Arnston’s keepers at the reins. Dressed impeccably for dinner, my master got into this conveyance. As we drove off, I was aware of many eyes watching us. The atmosphere in that village was as tense as a summer evening before a storm.

At the Hall Lord Arnston had laid on a light supper, which we enjoyed before my master went off to change into some clothes that
his Lordship had arranged for him. We then sat and waited for Inspector Pendle and his men. I have always found waiting very hard, as I am a dog of action.

At about ten past nine I heard the noise of several vehicles pulling up outside the hall. Led by Lord Arnston and William
, we arrived in the drive to find Inspector Pendle and a dozen of his men. Lord Arnston invited them inside the hall.

I remember that scene very well. Lord Arnston and the Inspectors stood half way up the grand staircase explaining their plan to a dozen policemen and about that number of burly estate workers. I could see from the serious faces that the estate workers had at least
one score to settle.

We moved out at
ten o’clock, led by Lord Arnston’s gamekeepers. Within fifteen minutes we were all in position. Half of us lay in the woods of the lord’s estates, while the other half were hidden in Staine’s Wood, having crossed by an ancient ford that used to serve the plague village.

I lay on the ground between my master and Inspector Pendle and composed myself to wait patiently. There is one common factor to all these ambushes. You wait patiently and then
, five minutes after you decide that the villains will not come, they arrive. I will admit that they were very good. For a few seconds I was not even sure that they had arrived.

We watched quietly as the villains placed their nets. There was a sudden gleam of light as one of the men opened the back of a dark lantern, fumbled for a moment and then threw something into the river. For a second there was complete silence, then with a subdued roar the river seemed to leap from its bed and the poachers pressed forward.

Inspector Pendle stood and blew his whistle. Suddenly all was pandemonium as we fell upon the gang. They were completely surprised and most of them surrendered quickly. One of them, however, sprinted down the bank and somehow managed to dodge past the policeman who tried to stop him. Inspector Pendle took up the chase and for want of anything better to do, I joined in.

We had covered about a hundred yards when the poacher stopped and turned. In the moonlight
, I saw that it was Tom Dawson. He raised his arm and pointed it directly at Inspector Pendle. I gasped when I saw the pistol clenched in his hand. It was obvious that he was about to shoot the Inspector. I did not stop to think: with a bark, I threw myself at his right arm. I saw his hand turn in my direction and a tongue of flame leapt out at me. I felt a hammer blow on my head. Suddenly my paws did not seem to work and I tumbled to the ground. My last sight as a wave of blackness washed over me was of Inspector Pendle stepping over me and punching Tom Dawson once on the chin.