CHAP. V.[ToC]
A PAIR OF THIEVES.
About that dog of Billy Birch. Have I not promised to tell you something about him, and the accident that happened to him, which accident Mike Marble might have prevented, if he had made the attempt? I have a good mind to tell you about these matters, at any rate, whether I have made such a promise or not.
Mind now, reader, that, in telling this story, I don't mean to have it understood that I think Mike did right. I'll grant that he did wrong. But I mention the fact to show what sort of mischief Mike was up to, and what sort of blemishes those were, which I confess he had in his character; for, as I think I said before, this trick was about as bad a thing as I ever heard of his being guilty of.
Cæsar got to be a great hero in the sheep-killing business—a perfect Nimrod of a dog. It sometimes happens, I fancy, that soldiers who spend more of their time in war, actually shooting people and cutting their throats, after a while, get to liking the trade, and take pleasure in slaughtering human beings, just as a carpenter or a printer might take pleasure in his trade. Well, it got to be somewhat so with Cæsar, it would seem; for it often came to pass that two or three sheep would be killed in one night, when, of course, a single fat one would supply his appetite bountifully for several days, at least. He must have liked the business, or he would have contented himself with killing only a sufficient number of sheep to keep him in food.
The neighbors who suffered from Cæsar's favorite amusement, complained, now and then, to his master. But it did no good. "They must keep their sheep out of the way," the selfish man would say. "Cæsar is a capital family dog. I don't know what I should do without him—he is so faithful." That was as much satisfaction as they could ever get. Billy Birch would not shut up his dog at night, and as for killing him, that was out of the question. He would rather lose his best horse than Cæsar. True, the neighbors might have sued the owner of the dog, and have got the value of their lost sheep in that way. But they were generally peaceable folks, and had a great dread of going to law, especially with one of their own neighbors. The result was, that Cæsar's business prospered more and more every day.
It was in the full tide of his success as a sheep-killer, that he came, one day, into Mr. Marble's door yard, and took his station near the wood pile. Mike saw him, and knew well enough what he came for. His father had just been slaughtering an ox, and some of the dainty pieces of the animal were lying on the wood pile, the scent of which had brought Cæsar to the spot. No doubt, having feasted on mutton so long, he had got a little sick of it, and thought he would make a dinner on beef. He was a dainty fellow, you perceive.