“Like us to send him down in the skep, sir?” said Dinass, grinning. “Better not, p’r’aps, as he might lose his way.”
“No fear of Grip losing his way—eh, Joe?”
Joe shook his head.
“He’d find his way back from anywhere if he had walked over the ground. Wouldn’t you, Grip?”
The dog gave a sharp bark as he turned his head, and then looked down again, whining and uneasy.
“What’s the matter, old boy?” said Gwyn. “It’s all right, old man, they’ve gone down. Will you go with me?”
The dog uttered a volley of barks, then turned to Dinass and growled.
“Quiet, sir!” cried Gwyn. “Look here, Tom Dinass, you must tease him, or he wouldn’t be so disagreeable to you.”
“Me? Me tease him, sir! Not me.”
“Well, take my advice,” said Gwyn, “don’t. He’s a splendid dog to his friends; so you make good friends with him as soon as you can.”