"Well! dogs," I said sarcastically, "I hope you are having pleasant dreams."
"Quite, thank you," said Guardie. "May I ask why you are at this hour of the night waking our charges from well-deserved slumbers?"
"Certainly," I said, listening to old Sir Vet who was snorting disagreeably as he raised his head from his fresh straw bed and Lady Annabella who was ejaculating, "Unk! Unk!—What's the row?"
"I merely called to tell you that we have had a night prowler who knocked poor Drunkard silly. Why weren't you on the alert? I've been keeping dog watch."
Guardie yawned. "Awfully sorry, old boy, but we've trained ourselves not to budge unless we hear someone approaching our pigs."
"Pretty selfish policy that," I said. "If you'd been more generous you might have saved Drunkard a broken leg."
"Is that so!" both dogs exclaimed, "too bad!" and then I had to tell them about Bolshy.
While we were talking, old Sir Vet got up from his bed and pegged along toward us.
When I finished he turned his small but intelligent eyes on Guardie. "Do I understand Prince Fetlar to say that you are an insufficient protection for us at night?"
"No, I'm not—I'm a good guard," snarled the collie.