"Well, I lay claim to him," smiled Merry.
"He—he—can he talk?"
"Didn't you hear him?"
"Yes, but——"
"Well, what better evidence do you want than your own ears?"
"That's enough; but Schlitzenheimer called me names and said I was trying to put up a joke on him because I told him I heard the dog talk."
"Who's Schlitzenheimer?"
"He runs the saloon down the street right in front of which your dog whipped those other dogs what jumped on him. He's a black-headed Dutchman. Come on down and show him the dog."
"Come on!" cried others.
Merry didn't mind the lark, but he now turned to the dog, with a very serious expression on his face, saying: