Baalim was ugly, and he seemed to glory in it. He was unlike all other dogs. He had a dirty, yellowish-brown coat, his hair was uneven, it seemed to stick out of him in shreds and patches. His body was long and his legs were short, stumpy, and out of proportion. His tail was useful for whipping off flies, and it resembled the thick part of a stock whip lash. His head was wolfish in shape, and when he smiled, as dogs will smile at strangers, his teeth were ominous. His eyes were the best part of him. They were expressive, and he talked to Dr Tom with them, or, to be more correct, through them, in a most interesting way.
Baalim was a shrewd dog, and he was a bit of a diplomatist. He was an adept at the art of creating quarrels and of patching them up. In his perambulations round the Creek with Dr Tom he found much to interest and amuse him.
When the doctor was attending a patient, Baalim attended to the patient's dog, and these attentions generally ended in a dispute.
He was a particular dog, and after the doctor he bestowed his affections upon Jim Dennis and Constable Doonan.
When Baalim was left in charge of Dr Tom's sanctum no man dare enter it. Any attempt to do so would have been followed by serious consequences.
'Ride back with me, and ask Baalim to attend us,' said Jim.
'He wants a run; it will do him good. Take some of the fat off him.'
'Then you'll return with me?' asked Jim.
'Yes, and take the dog with me. He'll amuse Willie for an hour or two.'
'And to pass the time he can have a battle royal with Towser in the back yard,' said Jim.