"I guess you don't know anything of the kind, unless you know he's mine. He never heard of Gallagin. I brought him here when I came and he was stolen from me not long ago and I've just got him back. Shut up, Dix!" for Dix was beginning to growl and was ready for war.
The fellow mumbled something and satisfied me that he was laboring under a misapprehension, so I explained a little further, and he turned and went into Raffity's saloon. Next day, however, there was a knock at my door, and before I could call to the person to come in, McSheen himself stood in the door. The knock itself was loud and insolent, and McSheen was glowering and manifestly ready for trouble.
"I hear you have a dog here that belongs to me," he began.
"Well, you have heard wrong—I have not."
"Well—to my daughter. It is the same thing."
"No, I haven't—a dog that belongs to your daughter?"
"Yes, a dog that belongs to my daughter. Where is he?"
"I'm sure I don't know. I wasn't aware that you had a daughter, and I have no dog of hers or any one else—except my own."
"Oh! That don't go, young man—trot him out."
At this moment, Dix walked out from under my desk where he had been lying, and standing beside me, gave a low, deep growl.