“I’d gladly do so,” said Tandy, laughing, “but, my dear sir, the fact is that my dog is like Tam o’ Shanter’s mare after she escaped from the witches—
“‘The ne’er a tail has he to shake.’”
Dogs are just like men, however, and these two, seemingly satisfied that neither could kill the other, soon made it up, and presently they went galloping off together to the sea to wash the sand out of their shaggy jackets.
Down sat the stranger between Ransey and his father. He rolled up his paper and lit his pipe, and soon the two were engaged in a very animated conversation.
Sailors all three. No wonder that the acquaintance thus brought about by their honest dogs ripened into friendship in a few days.
Captain Halcott—for so this new friend was named—had, some months before this, reached England after a very long and strangely adventurous cruise.
“Are you like me, I wonder?” he said to Tandy, as they sat smoking the calumet of peace together on a breezy cliff-top, while Ransey and his sister were fishing for curios in the pools of water left among the rocks by the receding tide. “Are you like me, I wonder? for I am no sooner safely arrived in Merrie England than I begin once more to long for life on the heaving billows.”
“You’re a free man, Captain Halcott; I’ve got a little family; and you’re a somewhat younger man, as well.”
“Yes, yes; granted. But, before going further, tell me what is your Christian name?”
“Dick.”