“A terrier bunnow,” said I, “what’s that?”
“Why,” rejoined the captain, “he’s a thorough Pariar docked and cropped to make him look like a terrier; it’s a common trick played upon griffs, and you’ve been taken in, that’s all. What did you give for him?”
“Why, ten rupees,” I replied; “and I thought I had him remarkably cheap.”
“Cheap!” said the captain, with infinite contempt; “he’s not worth five pice; kick him out! hang him!”
“Thank you,” said I; “but as I’ve bought him, I’ll keep him; he’ll help to make up a pack, and I don’t see why he should not act up to his assumed character, and hunt very well; you see he knows how to give tongue, at all events.”
“Ha! ha!” said Marpeet; “come, that’s not so bad; but he’s a brute, upon my life—a useless brute, kick him to the d—l.”
“No,” I rejoined, a little nettled to hear my dog abused after that fashion; “I tell you I’ll keep him; besides, I have no acquaintance in the quarter you mention, and should be sorry to send him where he would be likely to annoy you again.”
Here were symptoms of downright insubordination. The captain stared at me in astonishment, and emitted a long and elaborate “whew!”
“’Pon my honour, regular disrespect to your superior officer. Well, after that, I must have a glass of brandy-pawny.”
“So you shall,” said I, “with all my heart; but you really were a little too hard, and forgot the saying, ‘Love me, love my dog.’”