“A little mammiferous quadruped, my boy,” he replied, with tears streaming down his cheeks. “A little thing with cloven hoofs and hollow horns, a creature called a goat. Alas, I loved it, and it has been taken hence.”
“Oh, drop that,” said the lads in chorus, and they again urged him onward. “What would the goat do there in winter? There’s nothing but snow in the field now.”
“I never loved a sweet gazelle,” MacDaly hummed lightly, leaning back on his bearers, and allowing his long legs to somewhat precede him up the hill. Opposite a schoolhouse he came to a dead halt. “Who comes here? Stand easy, sir.”
Colonel Armour was walking along the street at a leisurely gait, a single eyeglass in his eye, a handsome sealskin cap set on his gray hair, his dark, heavy coat fitting him without a wrinkle. With his straight, military figure, his handsome appearance, no greater contrast to the weak-kneed[weak-kneed] drunkard advancing toward him could be imagined. He stared slightly at MacDaly as he passed, but made no sign of recognition.
Like some noxious reptile fascinated by a bird of fine appearance MacDaly gazed at him. When Colonel Armour went by without quickening or slackening his pace, MacDaly turned, and with eyes glued to the retreating figure watched it out of sight. Then he stooped down, and catching up some snow pressed it to his forehead.
“Let go my arms, boys,” he said, with some irritation. “I can walk now. I’ve had a shock,” and he marched ahead of them without help, keeping his feet well and only stumbling occasionally.
Silently they passed by one house after another, nearly all built in the monotonous, square-roomed style of architecture that prevails in Halifax, until they arrived before the Pavilion. The boys took MacDaly, who was now partly over his shock, and was again walking unsteadily, in through the gate to the washhouse where, entirely oblivious of them, he was about mounting to his small apartment in the attic.
“The pup, Skitanglebags!” ejaculated one of them impatiently.
He stared at the boy in a confused manner, then as his promise came back to him, muttered: “Yes, yes; the pup—I’ll try to find him. Follow me, gentlemen.” Rolling his eyes about him as if seeking inspiration he climbed the steps to the attic, closely followed by the boys.
“Why don’t you call him?” asked one of them. “What’s his name?”