It was in the Dog Days. Dust lay thick on the road; the
creature's legs were remarkably short though active, and his hair being
long he swept up the dust in clouds as he ran. He was yelping, and I
observed that one or two stones appeared to be racing with, or after,
him. The voice of an angry man also seemed to chase him, but the owner
of the voice was at the moment concealed by a turn in the lane, which
was bordered by high stone-walls.

Hydrophobia, of course, flashed into my mind. I grasped my stick and
drew close to the wall. The hairy whirlwind, if I may so call it, came
wildly on, but instead of passing me, or snapping at my legs as I had
expected, it stopped and crawled towards me in a piteous; supplicating
manner that at once disarmed me. If the creature had lain still, I
should have been unable to distinguish its head from its tail; but as
one end of him whined, and the other wagged, I had no difficulty.

Stooping down with caution, I patted the end that whined, whereupon the
end that wagged became violently demonstrative. Just then the owner of
the voice came round the corner. He was a big, rough fellow, in ragged
garments, and armed with a thick stick, which he seemed about to fling
at the little dog, when I checked him with a shout--

"You'd better not, my man, unless you want your own head broken!"

You see I am a pretty well-sized man myself, and, as I felt confidence
in my strength, my stick, and the goodness of my cause, I was bold.

"What d'you mean by ill-treating the little dog?" I demanded sternly,
as I stepped up to the man.

"A cove may do as he likes with his own, mayn't he?" answered the man,
with a sulky scowl.

"A `cove' may do nothing of the sort," said I indignantly, for cruelty
to dumb animals always has the effect of inclining me to fight, though I
am naturally of a peaceable disposition. "There is an Act of
Parliament," I continued, "which goes by the honoured name of Martin,
and if you venture to infringe that Act I'll have you taken up and
prosecuted."

While I was speaking I observed a peculiar leer on the man's face, which
I could not account for. He appeared, however, to have been affected by
my threats, for he ceased to scowl, and assumed a deferential air as he
replied, "Vell, sir, it do seem raither 'ard that a cove should be
blowed up for kindness."

"Kindness!" I exclaimed, in surprise.

"Ay, kindness, sir. That there hanimal loves me, it do, like a broth