“Yah—ah—r-r—r-r—r-r!”
“Waugh—r-r—r-r—r-r—r!”
And there was war next second.
Tandy rushed to the scene of action.
“I’m very sorry, sir,” he said. “Which dog, do you think, began the fight?”
“I think they both began it,” said the newcomer, laughing.
Scotland and England were having a terrible tulzie, as Scotland and England have often had in days long, long gone by.
They were rolling over each other, sometimes Bob above, sometimes Bob below, and the yellow sands were soon stained with blood.
Little Nelda was in tears, and the Admiral scray-scraying and dancing with joy.
“I think,” said the stranger, “they’ve both had enough of it, and my proposal is this—I’ll pull my dog off by the tail, and you do the same by yours.”