n spots over his eyes and the tan
hair on his stomach. On the whole he was insignificant physically, and
ugly rather than handsome; but morally, he was a remarkable dog. He
absolutely despised women, would not obey them, never would follow them,
and never once did my mother or my sisters manage to win from him the
least sign of friendship or deference. He would accept their attentions
and the tit-bits they gave him with a superior air, but never did he
express any gratitude for them. Never would he yelp, never would he rap
the floor with his tail, never bestow on them a single one of those
caresses dogs are so fond of lavishing. He remained impassible in a
sphinx-like pose, like a serious man who will not take part in the
conversation of frivolous persons. The master he had elected was my
father, in whom he acknowledged the authority of the head of the house,
and whom he considered a mature and serious man. But his affection for
him was austere and stoical, and was not shown by gambadoes, larks, and
lickings. Only, he always kept his eyes upon him, followed his every
motion and kept close to heel, never allowing himself the smallest
escapade or the least nod to any passing comrades. My dear and lamented
father was a great fisherman before the Lord, and he caught more barbels
than Nimrod ever slew antelopes. It certainly could not be said of his
fishing-rod that it was a pole and string with a worm at one end and a
fool at the other, for he was a very clever man, and none the less he
daily filled his basket with fish. Zamore used to accompany him on his
trips, and during the long night-watches entailed by ground-line
fishing for the big fellows, he would stand on the very edge of the
water, apparently trying to fathom its dark depths and to follow the
movements of the prey. Although he often pricked up his ears at the
faint and distant sounds that, at night, are heard in the deepest
silence, he never barked, having understood that to be mute is a quality
indispensable in a fisherman's dog. In vain did Phoebe's alabaster brow
show above the horizon reflected in the sombre mirror of the river;
Zamore would not bay at the moon, although such prolonged ululation
gives infinite delight to creatures of his species. Only when the bell
on the set-line tinkled did he look at his master and allow himself one
short bark, knowing that the prey was caught; and he appeared to take
the greatest interest in the manoeuvres involved in the