Besides being an easy talker, Colonel seemed to be something of a mind-reader.
“It is a common belief,” he went on, “that all yellow dogs are good for is to kick around, or to put the blame on when eggs are missing. Now, I do not like eggs, and I do not know of a single yellow dog that does. It only goes to prove the old saying: Give a yellow dog a bad name and it will stick to him like a bur to his tail. But show me the yellow dog that is not the equal, in good manners, courage and intelligence, of any black or brown dog.”
Although Buddie lived a long way from any village, she had seen a great many dogs. They were mostly Indian curs, wolfish-looking creatures, and the greatest thieves in the world. Neglected by their owners, they foraged everywhere, often traveling miles in search of food, and eating almost anything they could chew. They were of all colors except yellow. Colonel was the only yellow dog Buddie had ever seen. And she was bound to admit that he was a much more agreeable dog than the ravenous creatures that came slinking around the log house every now and then, in the hope of picking up even so poor a meal as potato-parings or egg-shells.
“I say, give the yellow dog a show,” declared Colonel, sitting up on his haunches and making a grand flourish with his right forepaw. “Other dogs have shows, but you never hear of a yellow dog show. Let justice be done, though the sky falls.”
With his left forepaw he made another grand flourish, and paused for a reply. But all Buddie could think of was:
“I’m sure it wouldn’t be nice to have the sky fall.”
“Oh, that is just a figure of speech, like, Let justice be done,” said Colonel. “Nobody expects the sky to fall; though I dare say it would if justice were done.”
Buddie did not quite understand what was meant by a figure of speech, but, like many older persons, she was impressed by large words and an easy style of tossing them off; and it seemed to her that Colonel was a very superior person—if you could call a dog a person.
“If there are no more sticks to fetch,” said Colonel, dropping again on all fours, “I think I shall make a few calls on my friends in the wood.”
“Won’t you get lost?” asked Buddie, peering doubtfully into the dark grove of spruce and balsam-fir.