Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1911-07-04
TOM, THE SMUGGLER
BY Marcel Provost.

shall never forget the time when
lost my way among the downs that
stretch from Dunkirk to Furnes, two
years ago. I had left Rosendale at
in the afternoon for walk to an old
church, the steeple Of which could be
seen in the north just across the Bel
gian frontier. 1t was down hill ali the
way and after a while 1 could no
longer see the steeple. l went on
however, trying to walk in a straight
sand hills and after a while l no
longer knew which way I was going.
Do you know the cold. shivering
sensation that overpowers you when
you are alone walking through an un-
known country, in the downs, noun
tains Of woods, and you find out that
you have lost your way just as dusk
Is falling? 1t Is not fear, for there Is
no danger but 1t Is something very
much like 1t, a feeling born by your
knowledge Of your own helplessness.
and from a stronger desire to see and
hear other human beings. It Is also
the dread Of the city man, who Is
used to spend his nights in a COM
Portable bed
kept on walking, stumbling
through the deep sand, and I must
have walked at least another hour In
darkness when suddenly I saw light
in front of me and a moment later
knocked at the door Of a small house.
A tall man with a stern face and
with hair beginning to turn gray,
with long hunting boots on, opened
the door.
Good evening mynheer," he said.
Good evening"" I replied. For
give me for troubling you, but I have
lost my way in the downs and would
like to know where I am"
This house belongs to a man gen.
orally called Bouquet. I am Mi
chael Dewachter and the nearest vii
lage Is Forduyct."
He conducted me into large room,
serving as kitchen and living room,
at the same time. A door stood ajar
leading into a smaller bed room.
How far am I from Dunkirk?" !
asked.
"A little over six miles, mynheer.
will take you to Forduyct, where
you may easily get carriage, but
shall have to wait till Gudule comes
back. 1 can not leave the house
now"
A moaning sound came from the
next room. Michael Dewachter ran in
there and through the open door
saw dog lying on the bed and heard
him speak tenderly to 1t in English
which I did not understand.
When he returned his eyes were
full of tears.
us somebody sick?" I asked.
He raised his head.
1T is Tom that Is dying"
And as I probably looked as II !
did not understand, he added: ut
is Tom, my dog, that the customs OFF,
GERS have killed. Do you want to
see him? ?"
I followed him into the little bed
room and saw a big hunting dog ly-
ing on the bed just like a human be-
ing. Its right ear was bleeding and
one of it's front paws had been cut
off, and what was left Of the dog was
wrapped in linen bandages. 1t was
gasping for breath and evidently dy-
ing. IT'S tongue was hanging out and
the white teeth were barred. The eyes
were half closed.
Michael Dewachter stopped over 1t
and kissed 1t as a father might have
kissed his baby.
The beasts! The scoundrels! /
will make them pay dearly for that"
He went back to the big room and
my host filled two tankards with beer
and set them on the table.
please have a drink with me, "
he said, "Dudule will soon be here.
If you are hungry, I am sorry I can
not offer you anything but home
made bread and a little butter but
you are welcome to that IL you want
It,"
mo, thank you, I am not hungry,
but I will be very glad for glass of
beer"
Maybe you will smoke, too? Here
is a good pipe and some tobacco that
the customs offers would like to get
hold Of"
When we had lit our pipes we sat
down at the table. Michael was silent
for a while and there was no sound
but the gasping of the dying dog.
This dog, mynheer," said Michael
at last, "came all the way from Dun
kirk here (they must have caught it,
with one paw gone and shot through
the ear. Myngot! Those devils Of GUS
toms officers! To treat a poor beast
like that But the first Of them who
gets within reach of my gun"
He gulped down his beer to hide his
emotion and went on:
For five years the dog has been
working with us. l can tell this to
you, who are no beast Of a customs
officer. We make our living snug
Cling tobacco and lace and linen into
France from Belgium. My girl, who
will soon be back, Is on trip now.
1t is a good trade, but rather rough
on you sometimes
But how did Tom help you" 1
asked.
1T Is easy to see you do not come
from this part of the country. Dogs
like Tom are trained from pups, to
make trips between Belgium and
France. Then they are taught to hate
customs officers and to run away when
ever they see the green trousers: