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Through no matter what indignation and rage that possessed him, his lord's voice penetrated his consciousness, so that, cooling almost instantly, Michael's ears flattened, his bristling hair lay down, and his lips covered his fangs as he turned his head to look acknowledgment. "Come here, Killeny!" Michael obeyed not crouching cringingly, but trotting eagerly, gladly, to Steward's feet.
"Now just suppose you're policemen, or detectives," Daughtry told the first and third officers, "an' suppose I'm guilty of some horrible crime. An' suppose Killeny is the only clue, an' you've got Killeny. When he recognizes his master me, of course you've got your man. You go down the deck with him, leadin' by the rope.
Also, in and about their grass-thatched bungalow under the lofty avocado trees, Michael would have found other pet cats, and kittens, and pigs, donkeys and ponies, a pair of love-birds, and a mischievous monkey or two; but never a dog and never a cockatoo. For Dag Daughtry, with violence of language, had laid a taboo upon dogs. After Killeny Boy, he averred, there should be no other dog.
They can take their rotten cities. The sea's the life for us you an' me, Killeny, son, an' the old gent an' Kwaque, an' Cocky, too. We ain't made for city ways. It ain't healthy. Why, son, though you maybe won't believe it, I'm losin' my spring. The rubber's goin' outa me. I'm kind o' languid, with all night in an' nothin' to do but sit around.
Besides, there are plenty more Irish terriers in the world." "That's what I'm thinkin', sir. An' I'll get one for you. Right here in Sydney. An' it won't cost you a penny, sir." "But I want Killeny Boy," the captain persisted. "An' so do I, which is the worst of it, sir. Besides, I got him first." "Twenty-five sovereigns is a lot of money . . . for a dog," Captain Duncan said.
All the time you speak 'm this fella dog, you speak 'm Killeny Boy. Savvee? Suppose 'm you no savvee, I knock 'm block off belong you. Killeny Boy, savvee! Killeny Boy. Killeny Boy." As Kwaque removed his shoes and helped him undress, Daughtry regarded Michael with sleepy eyes. "I've got you, laddy," he announced, as he stood up and swayed toward bed.
He nodded approbation and reached for the second bottle. He drank and meditated, and drank again. "I've got you," he announced solemnly. "Killeny is a lovely name, and it's Killeny Boy for you. How's that strike your honourableness? high- soundin', dignified as a earl or . . . or a retired brewer. Many's the one of that gentry I've helped to retire in my day."
In his desperation, Daughtry hit upon an idea with which to get another schooner of steam beer. He did not like steam beer, but it was cheaper than lager. "Look here, Captain," he said. "You don't know how smart that Killeny Boy is. Why, he can count just like you and me." "Hoh!" rumbled Captain Jorgensen. "I seen 'em do it in side shows. It's all tricks. Dogs an' horses can't count."
"I've got your name, an' here's your number I got that, too: high- strung but reasonable. It fits you like the paper on the wall. "High-strung but reasonable, that's what you are, Killeny Boy, high-strung but reasonable," he continued to mumble as Kwaque helped to roll him into his bunk. Kwaque returned to his polishing.
Almost in a trice he was back, both slippers in his mouth, which he deposited at the steward's feet. "The more I know dogs the more amazin' marvellous they are to me," Dag Daughtry, after he had compassed his fourth bottle, confided in monologue to the Shortlands planter that night just before bedtime. "Take Killeny Boy. He don't do things for me mechanically, just because he's learned to do 'm.
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