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Updated: June 20, 2025
"What should it frighten me for?" "Well, it's like this," said Mr. Beale a little embarrassed. "Suppose you was to get pinched?" "What 'ud pinch me? A dawg?" "There won't be no dawg. A man, or a lady, or somebody in the 'ouse. Supposen they was to nab you what 'ud you say?" Dickie was watching his face carefully. "Whatever you tells me to say," he said. The man slapped his leg gently.
There was only one other occupant of the bar-parlour when we adjourned thither, and a glance at him told me that he was not ostentatiously sober. He was lying back in a chair, with his feet on the side-table, and crooning slowly, in a melancholy voice, the following words: 'I don't care if he wears a crown, He can't keep kicking my dawg aroun'.
"Do you want a dog?" "Not if that's what yer call a dawg, Mister," said the other boy. "I'd be ashamed to call on me tony friends wit' that mutt. What I needs is a coach-dawg to run under the hind axle of me landau." "Say!" breathed Purt, heavily, and paying no attention to the gibes. "You take this dog and keep it or tie it up somewhere so he can't follow me and I'll give you a quarter."
"We're only educatin' you in politics, learning you how to be like your superiors men." This evoked a round of laughter, and order was restored. "That's right, ladies, don't go; if you was to turn dawg on us now, we'd be so crestfallen we couldn't think about politics and save the country at all."
"That dawg sees something." "He is crazy," spoke up Laura, quickly. "He is like enough barking at our maid." "Sure!" rejoined Bobby. "Liz is up there." "Come on!" exclaimed the sheriff to his men, and started westward, in the direction Professor Dimp had taken. "Whom do you suppose the Barnacle is really barking at?" whispered Jess to Laura Belding. "He'd never make all that 'catouse' over Liz.
I likes a 'orse. Or a dawg," he added. "I ain't no good wiv me 'ands not at working, you know not to say working." Dickie suppressed a wild notion he had had of getting into that dream again, learning some useful trade there, waking up and teaching it to Mr. Beale. "Ain't there nothing else you'd like to do?" he asked. "I don't know as there is," said Mr. Beale drearily; "without it was pigeons."
The men inside mostly diggers makin' through to Victoria w'en they got the hang of things bust out roarin' an' cheerin', an' said, 'Leave the dawg on the road an' giv him a stummick ache. He tried to get up, but they pushed him off. He made great threats about the law, but miners is the gamest men alive an' loves fair play.
The lower orders, however, were afraid of being bitten. "I would n't meddle with that there job if I was you," said one. "Nasty breed o' dawg is that." He was therefore obliged to cast away respectability, spoil his trousers and his gloves, break his umbrella, drop his hat in the mud, and separate the dogs.
I've learned him to fetch cows an' shake hands an' an' everything! An' he drug me out'n the lake, when I was a-drowndin'! An' he done a heap more'n that fer me! He's drug me up to my feet, out'n wuthlessness, too; an' he's learned me that livin' is wuth while! He's my my he's my dawg!" he finished lamely, his scared eyes sweeping the circle of faces in panic appeal.
"We got a swell place down there," she went on. "Five bedrooms, a parlor and a library with a great big kitchen and a garage." "A what?" Abe cried. "A place what you put oitermobiles into it," Morris explained. "Is that so?" Abe said as he jammed his hat on with both hands. "Well, that don't do no harm, Mawruss, because you could also use it for a dawg house."
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