"Here comes the dog!" he said. "Now I have you, you old duffer! You'll find out he can talk."
Schlitzenheimer stared at the door, through which the crowd followed Frank, and Bart, and the dog.
"Vos dot der tog?" he said.
"Do you take me for a monkey, you lobster-faced frankfurter?" saucily demanded the dog.
"Hey?" squawked the saloon-keeper, turning purple. "Vot id vos? Dit I hear correctness?"
"Be careful, Boxer," said Frank reprovingly. "Don't be so free with your lip. You may offend the gentleman."
"Gentleman!" exclaimed the setter, in a tone of profound contempt. "Do you call that sourkraut-barrel a gentleman? I'm surprised at you, Frank!"
At this there was a burst of laughter, and Schlitzenheimer turned as red as he had been pale a moment before.
"Vot vor did dot tog vanted to insult me?" he exclaimed indignantly. "I dit not someding to him do!"