d die of apoplexy, and seeing he'd lost his teeth, it
was lucky he had no taste for fighting; but, after his being so
condescending, I didn't say nothing.

"Anyway," says he, "every smooth-coated dog is better than any hairy old
camel like those St. Bernards, and if ever you're hungry down at the
stables, young man, come up to the house and I'll give you a bone. I
can't eat them myself, but I bury them around the garden from force of
habit and in case a friend should drop in. Ah, I see my mistress
coming," he says, "and I bid you good day. I regret," he says, "that our
different social position prevents our meeting frequent, for you're a
worthy young dog with a proper respect for your betters, and in this
country there's precious few of them have that." Then he waddles off,
leaving me alone and very sad, for he was the first dog in many days
that had spoke to me. But since he showed, seeing that I was a
stable-dog, he didn't want my company, I waited for him to get well
away. It was not a cheerful place to wait, the trophy-house. The
pictures of the champions seemed to scowl at me, and ask what right such
as I had even to admire them, and the blue and gold ribbons and the
silver cups made me very miserable. I had never won no blue ribbons or
silver cups, only stakes for the old Master to spend in the publics; and
I hadn't won them for being a beautiful high-quality dog, but just for
fighting--which, of course, as Woodstock Wizard III says, is low. So I
started for the stables, with my head down and my tail between my legs,
feeling sorry I had ever left the Master. But I had more reason to be
sorry before I got back to him.

The trophy-house was quite a bit from the kennels, and as I left it I
see Miss Dorothy and Woodstock Wizard III walking back toward them, and,
also, that a big St. Bernard, his name was Champion Red Elfberg, had
broke his chain and was running their way. When he reaches old Jimmy
Jocks he lets out a roar like a grain-steamer in a fog, and he makes
three leaps for him. Old Jimmy Jocks was about a fourth his size; but he
plants his feet and curves his back, and his hair goes up around his
neck like a collar. But he never had no show at no time, for the grizzly
bear, as Jimmy Jocks had called him, lights on old Jimmy's back and
tries to break it, and old Jimmy Jocks snaps his gums and claws the
grass, panting and groaning awful. But he can't do nothing, and the
grizzly bear just rolls him under him, bi