“I thought you said he was gentle as a kitten!”
“Grandfather, I said that,” cried the Girl.
“Well wasn't it the truth?”
“You can see how he loves me. Didn't I ever tell you that Bel made the first friendly overture I ever received in this part of the country? He's watched me by the day, even while I slept.”
“Then what's all this infernal fuss about?”
“Try striking him if you want to find out,” explained the Harvester gently. “You see, Belshazzar and I are accustomed to living here alone and very quietly. He is excited over the Girl's return, because she is his friend, and he has not forgotten her. Then this is the first time in his life he ever heard an irritable voice from a visitor or saw a cane, and it angers him. He is perfectly safe to guard a baby, if he is gently treated, but he is a sure throat hold to a stranger who bespeaks him roughly or attempts to strike. He would be of no use as a guard to valuable property while I sleep if he were otherwise. Bel, come here! Lie still.”
The dog sank to the floor beside the Harvester, but his sharp eyes followed the Girl, and the hair arose on his neck at every rasping note of the old man's voice.
“I wouldn't give such a creature house room for a minute,” insisted the guest.
“Wait until you see him work and become acquainted with him, and you will change that verdict,” prophesied the Harvester.
“I never was known to change an opinion. Never, sir! Never!” cried the testy voice.