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Updated: June 13, 2025
"Why didst na let him hev it again?" "What's the use o' shuting at a sperrit?" grumbled John Warren. "'Sides, I couldn't see him." "Tchah! it warn't a sperrit," said Hickathrift contemptuously. "Well, I don't know so much about that," grumbled John Warren. "If it weern't a sperrit what was to mak my little dog, Snig, creep down in the bottom of the boat and howl?
"Somehow or other, I had got clutch o' my bowie, and at the next opportunity I made a cut at the rope, and heerd the clean `snig' o' the knife. Arter that I lay quiet on the parairy, an' I b'lieve I kinder sort o' fainted.
John Warren had disappeared into the cottage, but as they walked away some of the rabbits came to the mouths of their holes and watched their departure, while Snig, who could not leave his master's property, uttered a valedictory bark from time to time. "I say, Mr Marston," cried Dick, pausing, "isn't he a little beauty, to have such a master! Look at him watching that food, and not touching it.
John Warren stared at Dick, and then at his two companions, and, turning upon his heel, walked back into the hut, while Snig, his dog, seated himself beside the contents of the basket, and kept a self-constituted guard over them, from which he could not be coaxed. "Might have showed us something about the Warren," said Dick in an ill-used tone; "but never mind, there isn't much to see."
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