Then aloud he said:
“Oh! Yo’ll stay here tell yo’ get ’mitted into de house, will yo’, sah? Den I shall hab to loose de doag, ’cordin’ to o’ders.”
“Loose all the bloodhounds on the place, you insolent villain! I shall not stir from this spot!” savagely exclaimed Hanson.
“All yight, sah. Ef yo’ wants ’em. Des as yo’ say. Dough I do fink as Tige will be much as yo’ can stan’,” said Pompous loftily as he strutted off to the kennels muttering to himself:
“I’ll des gib him one good scare, anyway. Dough I doane mean to loose Tige on him, sho ’nuff, Lor’, no. I doane want to kill dat po’ intoxified creetur, nor likewise be hung fo’ de likes ob he. No, ’deed. But I’ll gib him one good scare,” he concluded as he reached the kennels and unchained the brute and brought her around to the front of the house.
She was a terrible-looking creature, a huge black beast, with a bull head, fiery eyes, heavy jaws, strong fangs, great shoulders, thick limbs and sharp claws. She glared at the stranger with burning eyes and showed all her teeth with a deep, thunderous growl.
Pompous held her chain with all his strength, and it took all his strength to do it.
Hanson was no coward, and he gazed at the monster with the interest aroused by a strange specimen of cross breeds in fierce canines. Nor did he for one moment believe that the negro would dare to loose the brute, that would be sure to fly at the stranger’s throat, throttle him down, and finish him. He smiled in derision of the man who held the dog.
The beast crouched, sprang, and nearly pulled the heavy negro down.
“Now, sah,” said Pompous, “will you leabe here like a ge’man, or will I let de doag loose?”