"But this man says the price is eighty for two."
"My dog—him Leader."
After some further conversation, "Where is your dog?" demanded the Colonel.
The new-comer whistled and called. After some waiting, and well-simulated anger on the part of the owner, along comes a dusky Siwash, thin, but keen-looking, and none too mild-tempered.
The children all brightened and craned, as if a friend, or at least a highly interesting member of the community, had appeared on the scene.
"The Nigger's the best!" whispered the Boy.
"Him bully," said the lad, and seemed about to pat him, but the Siwash snarled softly, raising his lip and showing his Gleaming fangs. The lad stepped back respectfully, but grinned, reiterating, "Bully dog."
"Well, I'll give you fifty for him," said the Colonel.
"Sixty."
"Well, all right, since he's a leader. Sixty."