'Hounds,' corrected Roger.
'It makes no difference.' The doctor translated the passage, and explained his difficulty.
'I reckon,' said Roger, after scratching his head, 'the gentleman acted right in settin' down—though I've never had occasion to try it, dogs bein' fond o' me by natur'. I've heard, too, that a very good way, when a dog goes for you, is to squatty 'pon your heels with your coat-tails breshin' the ground an' bust out laffin' in his face. I tell that for what 'tis worth.'
'Thank you,' said the doctor. 'I will make a note of it.'
'It wants nerve, seemin' to me.' Roger Olver rubbed his chin.
'That is understood.'
'For my part, if it happened I had a stick, I'd slash out at the beggar's forelegs—so—an' keep slashin' same as if I was mowin' grass. Or, if I hadn' a stick, I'd kick straight for his forelegs an' chest; he's easy to cripple there, an' he knows it. Settin' down may be all right for the time, only the difficulty is you've got to get up again sooner or later—onless help arrives.'
'Eureka!' exclaimed Doctor Unonius, rushing to his notes.
'I beg y'r honour's pardon?'
'The modern instance says that the dogs would remain seated in a circle round the man; that so long as he remained seated they would do the same; but that, if he attempted to rise, they would renew the attack. That vindicates me, and explains Homer.'