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Updated: May 18, 2025
"I suppose if you had been doin' it, you'd let that old whelp take back this claim, worth a quarter million if it's worth a cent. Not if I know it. It was the only way and the safe way too." "Safe! What if by a thousandth chance some one would blunder on to that body you left in the brush? What if some sergeant of mounted police would say to his man, 'Go get Ray Brent! Where would you be then?
'The hound that was harm'd then muzzled shall be, Who loved him worst shall weep for his wreck; Yet shall a whelp rise of the same race, That rudely shall roar, and rule the whole north, And quit the whole quarrel of old deeds done, Though he from his hold be kept back awhile. True Thomas told me this in a troublesome time, In a harvest morning at Eldoun hills."
He laughed for answer, with something of exultation in his voice. He swung me to his shoulder, and held me poised there, looking up at me. And then he laughed again. "Dost hear the whelp?" he cried to Falcone. "Still with his milk-teeth in his head, and already does he yelp for battle!" Then he looked up at me again, and swore one of his great oaths. "I can trust you, son of mine," he laughed.
As for that boy of mine, he is the condemndest little whelp in town, and he isn't no pet anywhere. Now, you let up on this dissectin' business, and I will make it all right with you. We held another consultation and then I told Pa that we did not feel that it was doing justice to society to give up the body of a notorious drunkard, after we had paid twenty dollars for the corpse.
I once ventured to ask my conductors where they were going to take me; but the answer I got in a low growl "Hold your tongue, you young whelp!" and the click of a pistol lock made me unwilling to enter on another question. I was more seriously alarmed about my uncle.
Quoth he, "I am fleeing from the son of Adam." "And thou," said the whelp, "with thy huge frame and length and breadth, how comes it that thou fearest the son of Adam, seeing that one kick of thy foot would kill him?"
"When the fog lifts, the cruiser will see us. There's only one thing for it. Somewhere, close in, is a steamer. She's a tramp, by the wheeze of 'er horn. We've got to board 'er an' sink the launch. If she's British, or American, O.K., as 'er people will stand by us. If she's a Dago, we've got to collar 'er, run every whelp into the forehold, an' answer the cruiser's signals ourselves.
We have no more reason to believe in such a relation than we have to believe that the similar bones in the hand of a man, wing of a bat, and fin of a porpoise, are related to similar conditions of life. No one supposes that the stripes on the whelp of a lion, or the spots on the young blackbird, are of any use to these animals.
Now, by all the laws of fortune he should in that time have seen in there at least once or twice a day already, the face he was ever looking for. But he had not; nor did he to-day. He only saw, or thought he saw, the cashier I should say the cashieress glance crosswise at him with eyes that seemed to him to say: "Fool; sneak; whelp; 'Cajun; our private detectives are watching you."
She's a shrewd and comical old blade, said he; 'give her a kegful of beef or mutton, or both, and a good swill of ale or porter, or whatever she prefers. Curse me, but I give the old whelp credit for the hit she gave me. Pay her, besides, whatever she asks for her eggs and chickens.
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