§ 7
At intervals there would be uncomfortable movements and the voice of the tramp came out of the darkness beside Bealby lamenting his approaching fate and discoursing—sometimes with violent expressions—on watch-dogs.
“I know I shall ’ave ’idrophobia,” said the tramp. “I’ve always ’ad a disposition to ’idrophobia. Always a dread of water—and now it’s got me.
“Think of it!—keeping a beast to set at a ’uman being. Where’s the brotherhood of it? Where’s the law and the humanity? Getting a animal to set at a brother man. And a poisoned animal, a animal with death in his teeth. And a ’orrible death too. Where’s the sense and brotherhood?
“Gaw! when I felt ’is teeth coming through my träsers—!
“Dogs oughtn’t to be allowed. They’re a noosance in the towns and a danger in the country. They oughtn’t to be allowed anywhere—not till every blessed ’uman being ’as got three square meals a day. Then if you like, keep a dog. And see ’e’s a clean dog....
“Gaw! if I’d been a bit quicker up that ’en roost—!
“I ought to ’ave landed ’im a kick.
“It’s a man’s duty to ’urt a dog. When ’e sees a dog ’e ought to ’urt ’im. It’s a natural ’atred. If dogs were what they ought to be, if dogs understood ’ow they’re situated, there wouldn’t be a dog go for a man ever.
“And if one did they’d shoot ’im....
“After this if ever I get a chance to land a dog a oner with a stone I’ll land ’im one. I been too sorft with dogs....”
Towards dawn Bealby slept uneasily, to be awakened by the loud snorting curiosity of three lively young horses. He sat up in a blinding sunshine and saw the tramp looking very filthy and contorted, sleeping with his mouth wide open and an expression of dismay and despair on his face.