There stood Corporal Van Spitter, perfectly erect, with a very melancholy face, one hand raised as usual to his cap, and the other occupied with the tail of Snarleyyow.
"What is it? what is the matter, corporal?"
"Mynheer Vanslyperken," replied the corporal, retaining his respectful attitude, "here is de tail."
"Tail! what tail?" exclaimed Vanslyperken, casting his eyes upon the contents of the corporal's left hand.
"Te tog's tail, mynheer," replied the corporal, gravely, "which de dam tog's wife--Moggy--"
Vanslyperken stared; he could scarcely credit his eyesight, but there it was. For a time he could not speak for agitation; at last, with a tremendous oath, he darted into the cabin.
What were his feelings when he beheld Snarleyyow lying in a corner tailless, with a puddle of blood behind him.
"My poor, poor dog!" exclaimed Vanslyperken, covering up his face.
His sorrow soon changed to rage--he invoked all the curses he could imagine upon Moggy's head--he vowed revenge--he stamped with rage--and then he patted Snarleyyow; and as the beast looked wistfully in his face, Vanslyperken shed tears. "My poor, poor dog! first your eye--and now your tail--what will your persecutors require next? Perdition seize them! may perdition be my portion if I am not revenged. Smallbones is at the bottom of all this; I can--I will be revenged on him."
Vanslyperken rang the bell, and the corporal made his appearance with the dog's tail still in his hand.