"Even if I had known he would bite," said Frank, afterwards, "I'd have done it." For he did not know at the time that this was the very best way to avoid being bitten. The dog, astonished by this straightforward proceeding, and probably thinking that one who advanced unflinchingly, with so brave a face, without weapons, must have honest business with his master, stepped aside, and growlingly let him pass.
"Where's your master?" said Frank, coolly, to an old negro, who was shuffling across the yard. "I want to see him a minute."
"Yes, massa," said the black, pulling at his cap, and bowing obsequiously.
He disappeared, and presently "old Buckley" came out, looking worthy to be the dog's master.
"Perhaps," thought Frank, "if I treat him in the same way, he won't bite, either;" and he walked straight up to him. The biped did not bark or growl, as the quadruped had done, but he looked wickedly at the intruder.
"How about those turkeys?" said Frank.
"What turkeys?" returned the man, surlily.
"It is Christmas now, and I thought you might be ready to sell some of them," continued Frank, nothing daunted.
"I've no turkeys to sell," said the man.
"But you had a lot of them," said Frank.