satisfaction his shadow which stretched, long and black and
horrible, across the snow.
It was a bit
slippery, and he had to
manoeuvre carefully in order
to keep right side up. Presently he caught up with the
beggarwoman.
"Good-evening!" he said.
The old woman turned about, stared at him horror-stricken; then,
as soon as she had collected her senses, took to her heels,
yelling at the top of her voice. A big mastiff, who had just
been let loose for the night, began to bark
angrily in a back
yard, and a dozen comrades responded from other yards, and came
bounding into the street.
"Hello!" thought Paul Jespersen. "Now look out for trouble."
He felt anything but hilarious when he saw the pack of angry dogs
dancing and leaping about him, barking in a wildly discordant
chorus.
"Why, Hector, you fool, don't you know me?" he said, coaxingly,
to the judge's mastiff. "And you, Sultan, old man! You ought to
be
ashamed of yourself! Here, Caro, that's a good fellow! Come,
now, don't
excite yourself!"
But Hector, Sultan, and Caro were all proof against such
blandishments, and as for Bismarck, the apothecary's
collie, he
grew every moment more
furious, and showed his teeth in a very
uncomfortable fashion.
To defend one's self was not to be thought of, for what defence
is possible to a sham bear against a dozen
genuine dogs? Paul
could use neither his teeth nor his claws to any purpose, while
the dogs could use
theirs, as he
presently discovered, with
excellent effect.
He had just concluded to seek safety in
flight, when suddenly he
felt a bite in his left calf, and saw the brute Bismarck tug away
at his leg as if it had been a mutton-chop. He had scarcely
recovered from this surprise when he heard a sharp report, and a
bullet whizzed away over his head, after having neatly put a hole
through the right ear. Paul concluded, with reason, that things
were getting serious.
If he could only get hold of that blockhead, the judge's groom,
who was violating the law about fire-arms, he would give him an
exhibition in
athletics which he would not soon forget; but,
being for the moment deprived of this pleasure, he knew of
nothing better to do than to dodge through the nearest
street-door, and
implore the
protection of the very first
individual he might meet.
It so happened that Paul selected the house of two middle-aged
milliners for this experiment.
Jemina and Malla Hansen were just seated at the table drinking
tea with their one
constantvisitor, the
post-office clerk,
Mathias, when, all of a sudden, they heard a
tremendousracket in
the hall, and the
furious barking of dogs.
With a
scream of
fright, the two old maids jumyed up, dropping
their precious tea-cups, and old Mathias, who had tipped his
chair a little
backward, lost his balance, and
pointed his heels
toward the ceiling. Before he had time to pick himself up the
door was burst open and a great hairy
monstersprang into the
room.
"Mercy upon us!" cried Jemina. "It is the devil!"
But now came the worst of it all. The bear put his paw on his
heart, and with the
politest bow in the world, remarked:
"Pardon me, ladies, if I intrude."
He had meant to say more, but his
audience had vanished; only the
flying tails of Mathias's coat were seen, as he slammed the door
on them, in his
precipitateflight.
"Police! police!" someone shouted out of the window of the
adjoining room.
Police! Now, with all due respect for the officers of the law,
Paul Jespersen had no desire to meet them at the present moment.
To be hauled up at the station-house and fined for street
disorder--nay, perhaps be locked up for the night, if, as was
more than likely, the captain of police was at the
masquerade,
was not at all to Paul's taste. Anything rather than that! He
would be the laughing stock of the whole town if, after his
elaborate efforts, he were to pass the night in a cell, instead
of dancing with Miss Clara Broby.