"But does anybody carry a lantern—except the watchmen?"
"Everybody does. Coloured paper lanterns, like the Chinese ones, with a bit of candle inside. With one of these in one hand and a heavy stone or stick in the other, you may get safely through a night-walk among the howling dogs of Stamboul."
"What horrible beasts!"
"I think you would pity them if you were there. They are half starved, and have no friends."
"There isn't a home for lost and starving dogs in Constantinople then?"
"The whole city may be considered as the headquarters of starving dogs, but not of lost ones. That reminds me why I said Ponto had not lived there. If he had he would know his own grounds, and keep to them."
"But, Cousin Peregrine, I thought you said the Turkish dogs had no particular homes?"
"Every dog in Constantinople belongs to a particular Quarter of the town, which he knows, and to which he confines himself with marvellous sagacity. In the Quarter in which he was born, there he must live, and there (if he wishes to die peaceably) he must die. If he strays on any pretext into another Quarter, the dogs of the Quarter he has invaded will tear him to pieces, and dine upon his bones."
"How does he know where his own part of the town begins and ends?"
"I cannot tell you, Maggie. But I can tell you of my own knowledge that he does. Jack did, though we tried to deceive him over and over again."