un, and smiling as bull-terriers will. I heard Vixen squeal; half a
dozen of the curs closed in on her; a white streak came up behind me;
a cloud of dust rose near Vixen, and, when it cleared, I saw one tall
pariah with his back broken, and the bull wrenching another to earth.
Vixen retreated to the protection of my whip, and the bull paddled back
smiling more than ever, covered with the blood of his enemies. That
decided me to call him "Garin of the Bloody Breast," who was a great
person in his time, or "Garm" for short; so, leaning forward, I told him
what his temporary name would be. He looked up while I repeated it, and
then raced away. I shouted "Garin!" He stopped, raced back, and came up
to ask my will.

Then I saw that my soldier friend was right, and that that dog knew and
was worth more than a man. At the end of the ride I gave an order which
Vixen knew and hated: "Go away and get washed!" I said. Garin understood
some part of it, and Vixen interpreted the rest, and the two trotted off
together soberly. When I went to the back verandah Vixen had been washed
snowy-white, and was very proud of herself, but the dog-boy would not
touch Garm on any account unless I stood by. So I waited while he was
being scrubbed, and Garm, with the soap creaming on the top of his broad
head, looked at me to make sure that this was what I expected him to
endure. He knew perfectly that the dog-boy was only obeying orders.

"Another time," I said to the dog-boy, "you will wash the great dog with
Vixen when I send them home."

"Does he know?" said the dog-boy, who understood the ways of dogs.

"Garm," I said, "another time you will be washed with Vixen."

I knew that Garm understood. Indeed, next washing-day, when Vixen as
usual fled under my bed, Garm stared at the doubtful dog-boy in the
verandah, stalked to the place where he had been washed last time, and
stood rigid in the tub.

But the long days in my office tried him sorely. We three would drive
off in the morning at half-past eight and come home at six or later.
Vixen knowing the routine of it, went to sleep under my table; but
the confinement ate into Garm's soul. He generally sat on the verandah
looking out on the Mall; and well I knew what he expected.

Sometimes a company of soldiers would move along on their way to the
Fort, and Garm rolled forth to inspect them; or an officer in uniform
entered into the office, and it was pitiful to see poor Garm's welcome
to the