Authors: Felix Salten
Renni the Rescuer (27 page)
“But something might happen to him.”
“Nothing's going to happen to him.”
“But, say! Where's that pigeon Renni had? What became of her?”
The surgeon shrugged. “I've no idea.”
“Do you hear, Renni? Your pigeon's gone.”
Once more Renni's muzzle came over the edge of the bed, and a slight tapping told that he wagged his tail.
“Anything else?” asked the surgeon.
“Yes, one thing more.” George thought again. “If I remember, I was with a wounded man . . . a jolly fellow . . . . Who brought him in? . . . And how's he getting along?”
“He's past suffering. A shell splinter struck him in the head.”
“Poor chap! He was so gay, not a bit worried over his wound.”
When the surgeon left, a pretty young nurse brought in some warm milk. A glass for George, a bowl for the dog. Renni, who had been used to this for some days, began to lap loudly. When George started drinking, he realised he was hungry. It was the first food he had had.
“Thank you,” he said, and gave back the empty glass. The nurse smiled and pointed at Renni. “He likes it.”
“So do I,” said George. He thought a moment, and then went on, “There's one thing I don't understand. I've a room all to myself, and the dog's allowed to stay with me. How does that happen?”
The nurse smiled in friendly fashion. “Our staff surgeon ordered it.”
“Such a favour . . . . After all I'm only a corporal . . . Why?”
“The staff surgeon is a man first, a soldier after.” She smiled in a still warmer way. “He thinks your distinguished services deserve distinguished treatment. And we're all of his opinion! We think it's wonderful of him to give the dog medical treatment himself, instead of calling a vet.”
“He . . . himself . . . the staff surgeon?”
“Don't be so surprised, Corporal. The surgeon's right. He says this dog has done so much for so many men, let men do something for him.”
“Was there a great deal to do for Renni?”
“Quite a lot.”
“Nurse, do you know . . . is there a colonel here? . . . ”
“With a wound in his ankle? Yes, and he's going to get well soon. Corporal, do you remember that enemy soldier who loved your dog so?”
“Why, of course. The fellow who wanted a smoke. Did he die?”
“Oh, no, he's perfectly well. Before we moved here, we sent him to the prison camp.”
“A prisoner? But he was so friendly with everyone!”
The nurse smiled. “It's a rule of the game.”
“Rule?” George shook his head. “In this man's war, they don't stick much to rules.”
In a few days he could sit up in bed with a support at his back. He could look Renni in the face now, could see those clear, bright eyes whose gaze rested tenderly, trustingly on him. Through the nights and through the days they had both slept, master and dog alike, sometimes dreamlessly, sometimes oppressed by the terrible visions which spread before them, the confused and ghastly panorama of their war experience. Often George had been awakened by the peculiar high-pitched, choking cry that Renni gave in his sleep.
“How much longer have I got to stay here in the hospital?” George asked the surgeon.
“Two or three weeks. Can't say exactly yet. But don't let that worry you. When you get well, you're going home.”
“Home!”
George was astounded.
“Certainly. You're no longer fit for active duty. Nor
your dog, either.” The surgeon pointed to Renni, who had come limping to meet him and stood waving his tail, his left hind leg drawn up tightly against his body. “He has found and saved his full share. He can't do more of that, not with his wounded leg. Oh, it will get better in time, much better, but never quite the way it was!”
George dropped his head in a sudden fear. “How about me? Am I going to be a cripple too?”
“Not a bit of it.” The doctor's denial was emphatic and convincing. “Don't go fancying any such nonsense! You're going to be as well as anybody. But, you know, there's quite a difference between the hardships of war and your duties at home!”
Home! Home! It began to come back to George that he had a home.
The word sang through his soul like a ravishing melody. Home! To go home!
Out of the dreary waste of gory images that had blinded him to every part of his real self, images which he now thrust resolutely from him, there gradually arose, in his memory and his hope, a host of lovely
scenes . . . the garden, the fields, the house . . . Mother . . . Tanya, beautiful Tanya.
Renni was trying harder and harder to get into bed with him. The nurse, watching his vain efforts, asked, “Does that bother you?”
“Oh, nurse,” was the answer, “I would be as happy to have him at my side as he would be to get here.”
She understood, and helped the dog onto the bed. Renni was mad with joy. But even so, he shielded his lame leg, and he was careful about his wounded master. So there he lay, pressed close against George, washing his hands and face, tapping the bedclothes with his waving plume.
“We're going home, Renni! Home! Know what that means, to be home again?” He said the words slowly and carefully to him, “Mother . . . Tanya . . . Kitty! We'll be seeing our friendsâVogg . . . and Bettina . . . and Vladimir.” At each name Renni's ears went up, he gave a little happy whine, and his tail wagged so it sounded like a drum.
The two of them spent long, peaceful days together
on the bed. Eager yearning, pain growing less and less.
The war went on, somewhere in the distance. But for them, dog and master, it was over. They had done their duty as far as they could, had even shed their blood. Now they were free to go home.
Free!
Now with clear conscience they could yield to their natural, peaceful longings. They could forget the horrorâor try their best to forget.
War had given them back the right to think of their nearest and dearest. The future was open, paid for by all they had done and all they had suffered. They two together.
George could never think of life without Renni. They had been united from the first, in their play, in their training, through deadly dangers, through all the work of rescue, through all the pain they had shared.
So now as the hours passed and George repeated softly, ten, twenty times, “Home! Mother! Mother!” Renni shared his joy. He would lift his beautiful head
from George's breast as often as his sharp ears went up to catch the words.
Indeed, he raised his head even when George just thought “Mother” to himself.
And in Renni's innocent eyes shone the visible reflection of loyal hope, clear for all to read, the hope which flowed like a stream through George's being. And the same stream warmed the dog's heart too.
FELIX SALTEN
was an author and critic in Vienna, Austria. He was the author of plays, short stories, novels, travel books, and essay collections. His most famous work is
Bambi
.
ALADDIN
Simon & Schuster, New York
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Also by Felix Salten
Bambi
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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First Aladdin paperback edition June 2013
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Designed by Hilary Zarycky
Cover designed by Karin Paprocki
Cover illustration by Richard Cowdrey
The text of this book was set in Yana.
Library of Congress Control Number 2012949910
ISBN 978-1-4424-8274-6 (hc)
ISBN 978-1-4424-8273-9 (pbk)
ISBN 978-1-4424-8679-9 (eBook)