The ex-Pirate shook his head, but the Gopher answered, "That's a Dachshund."
"A Dachshund?" repeated Tommy: "I guess not. Dachshunds are not built like that. Look at his long legs."
"Well, that is a Dachshund," insisted the Gopher; and then he pulled his sunbonnet over his head and closed his eyes for a nap.
The French Poodle was the only one that had any trouble with the Bull, because the Bull could not speak French, and refused to understand what the Poodle said. Tommy plainly heard the dog muttering to himself as he left the window:
"Espèce de John Bull! Il est toujours comme ça!"
But the little boy could not understand what the Poodle meant anymore than the Bull could, because he had not gotten along any further in his French exercise-book than "Have you seen the good General's red slippers under the green table of the wine-merchant's beautiful mother-in-law?" And he did not recognize any of the words in the Poodle's plaint.
The Bull had been losing his temper pretty rapidly ever since the doors opened, and he seemed to be waiting for a chance to do or say something ugly. Pretty soon a couple of harmless and sleepy-looking Oxen came plodding up the gang-plank and strolled through the doorway.
"Look here!" the Bull shouted at them, "you've got to leave your chewing-gum outside! No gum-chewing allowed on the Ark!"
One of the Oxen protested, but the Bull asserted that if the Ox made any trouble he would come outside and settle the matter himself; and so both Oxen regretfully stuck their chewing-gum under the gang-plank and passed in. A little while later a Lizard came along and handed in his ticket through the small window near the floor. The Bull looked at it and frowned, and then stuck his head out over the counter and glared at the little Lizard, who positively turned green with fright.
"What do you mean by presenting this ticket?" asked the Bull, savagely.