'I have composed an "Ode to Spring,"' said Dr Tom.
'I should have thought you were owed quite enough without piling up additional debts,' said Jim.
'Seize him, Baalim,' shouted the doctor.
Baalim raised his head, yawned, licked his fore paws one by one, turned over and snarled.
'How long have you had that dog?' questioned Jim, anxious to keep the doctor away from the violin-case.
'Several years. He arrived here one morning casually, on his own account. I shall never forget the inquiring look on his face as he came up those steps. It was the sort of look which conveyed the impression that he was thinking, "I wonder what kind of boots he wears and if he kicks hard?" It was not exactly a frightened look, but the glance of a dog that had seen a good deal of the slings and arrows, I think—the arrows of outrageous fortune. He didn't ask to remain, but he demanded his breakfast in such an appealing manner that I fed him. From that day to this he has never left me. He is a faithful companion, and his breed may be defined as "various." Moreover, he is an ass of a dog, that's why I call him Baalim.'
'Has he many good qualities?' asked Jim.
'He's full of good qualities, but he's a fool to himself. Instead of seeking repose on his mat, he circulates round the Creek on knight-errant adventures. He has fought every dog in Swamp Creek singly and in batches. He not only gets himself into trouble, but he drags me into it along with him. The number of excuses I have made for that dog's behaviour would surprise you. I believe he is grateful. Baalim, are you grateful?'
The dog slowly rose from his recumbent position and waddled up to Dr Tom. He placed his big, shaggy head on the doctor's knee, and looked up into his face. If ever a dog wished to express gratitude in a canine way it was Baalim at that moment.
'What an ugly beggar he is,' said Jim; 'but he looks a real good dog.'