and near it were scattered sundry
pairs of shears and scissors, used to clip mules and other animals. The
_esquilador_, or shearer--for such was the profession of the individual
just described--had found a subject for the exercise of his art in a
large white dog of the poodle species, who, with a most exemplary
patience, the result probably of a frequent repetition of the same
process, lay upon his back between the operator's knees, all four legs
in the air, exposing his ribs and belly to the scissors that were
rapidly divesting them of their thick fleece. The operation seemed to
excite intense interest amongst the surrounding soldiers, who followed
with their eyes each clip of the shears and movement of the esquilador's
agile fingers, and occasionally encouraged the patient, their constant
companion and playmate both in quarters and the field, by expressions of
sympathy and affection. The arrival of Paco, who established himself
behind the esquilador, in a gap of the circle, was insufficient to
distract their attention from the important and all-absorbing interest
of the dog-shearing.

"_Pobre Granuka!_" cried one of the lookers-on, patting the dog's head,
which lay back over the esquilador's knee; "how quiet he is! what a
sensible animal! How fares it, Granuka?--how is it with you?"

The dog replied by a blinking of his eyes, and by passing his tongue
over his black snout, to this kind inquiry concerning his state of
personal comfort.

"_Mira! que entendido!_" cried the gratified soldier; "he understands
every word. Come, gitano--have you nearly done? The poor dog's weary of
lying on his back."

The last trimming was given to the patient, and the liberated animal
jumped up and raced round the circle, as if anxious to show his friends
how greatly he was improved by the process he had undergone. His face
and the hinder half of his body were closely clipped, his shoulders and
forelegs remaining covered with a fell of woolly hair; whilst at the end
of his tail, the cunning artist had left, by express desire of the
soldiers, a large tuft, not unlike a miniature mop, which Granuka
brandished in triumph above his clean-shaven flanks.

"_Que hermoso!_" screamed one of the delighted soldiers, catching
Granuka in his arms, kissing his muzzle, and then pitching him down with
a violence that would have broken the bones of any but a regimental dog.

"Attention, Granuka!" cried another of the quadruped's numerous masters,
d