“Quiet,” cried Nic loudly, and the growling ceased; while the next moment from out of the darkness a great head began to nestle upon his shoulder. “Good dog, then!” cried Nic, patting and stroking its head. “There, I think you may venture to talk, Pete.”
“Do you, zir? If I waren’t beginning to think they’d done for you. Aren’t you hurt, then?”
“No; they are used to us now, and I don’t think there’s anything to fear. Look here; do you dare to reach out your hand and pat him?”
“No, zir; I’m too great a coward. I was always feared of a dog’s bite; not of the dog.”
Nic was silent for a few moments, and then he began to pat first one dog and then another heavily, the great brutes submitting to the familiarities evidently with satisfaction, one of them beginning to bound about the shed, and returning to be caressed again.
“You order me to come close and pat one of ’em, Master Nic, and I will,” said Pete hoarsely.
“Come on, then.”
The man drew a deep breath and made the venture, with so much success attending it that he tried it upon the others.
“Master Nic,” he whispered excitedly, “what do you think of that?”
“Of what?”