Now Jack had observed as he came along how very disrespectful the dogs of that town were to the people. They had a habit of going up to them and smelling at their legs, and even gnawing their feet as they sat before the little tables selling their wares; and what made this more surprising was that the people did not always seem to find out when they were being gnawed. But the moment the dogs saw Jack they came and fawned on him, and two old hounds followed him all the way to the slave-market; and when he took a seat one of them laid down at his feet, and said, “Master, set your handsome feet on my back, that they may be out of the dust.”
“Don’t be afraid of him,” said the other hound; “he won’t gnaw your feet. He knows well enough that they are real ones.”
“Are the other people’s feet not real?” asked Jack.
“Of course not,” said the hound. “They had a feud long ago with the fairies, and they all went one night into a great cornfield which belonged to these enemies of theirs, intending to steal the corn. So they made themselves invisible, as they are always obliged to do till twelve o’clock at noon; but before morning dawn, the wheat being quite ripe, down came the fairies with their sickles, surrounded the field, and cut the corn. So all their legs of course got cut off with it, for when they are invisible they cannot stir. Ever since that they have been obliged to make their legs of wood.”
While the hound was telling this story Jack looked about, but he did not see one slave who was in the least like his poor little friend, and he was beginning to be afraid that he should not find her, when he heard two people talking together.
“Good day!” said one. “So you have sold that good-for-nothing slave of yours?”
“Yes,” answered a very cross-looking old man. “She was late again this morning, and came to me crying and praying to be forgiven; but I was determined to make an example of her, so I sold her at once to Clink-of-the-Hole, and he has just driven her away to work in his mine.”
Jack, on hearing this, whispered to the hound at his feet, “If you will guide me to Clink’s hole, you shall be my dog.”
“Master, I will do my best,” answered the hound; and he stole softly out of the market, Jack following him.
