bounds' he came freely and happily to our side once more. I have often
wondered, since I left Constantinople, how long Jack lived, and how he
died."

"Oh, didn't you take him away?"

"I couldn't, my dear. And you must not think, Maggie, that if Turks do
not pet dogs they are cruel to them. It is not the case. A Turk would
never dream of petting a dog, but if he saw one looking hot and thirsty
in the street he would be more likely to take trouble to get it a dish
of water than many English people who feed their own particular pets on
mutton-chops. Jack was not likely to be ill-treated after our departure,
but I sometimes have a heart-sore suspicion that we may have raised
dreams in his doggish heart never again to be realized. If he were at
all like other dogs (and the more we knew of him the more companionable
he became), he must have waited many a long hour in patient faithfulness
at our deserted threshold. He must have felt his own importance as a dog
with a name, in that wild and nameless tribe to which he belonged. He
must have dreamed of his foreign friends on many a blazing summer's
afternoon. Perhaps he stole cautiously into other Quarters to look for
us. I hope he did not venture too far--Maggie--my dear Maggie! You are
not fretting about poor Jack? I assure you that really the most probable
thing is that our successors made friends with him."

"Do you really and truly think so, Cousin Peregrine?"

"On my word of honour I do, Maggie. You must remember that Jack was not
a Stamboul dog. He belonged to Pera, where Europeans live, so there is a
strong probability that his unusual tameness and beauty won other
friends for him when we had gone."

"I hope somebody very nice lived in your house when you went away."

"I hope so, Maggie."

"Cousin Peregrine, do you think we could teach Ponto to know his own
quarter?"

"I think you could, Fred. I once lived next door to a man who was very
fond of his garden. It was a mere strip in front of his hut--for we were
quartered in camp at this time--and not even a paling separated it from
a similar strip in front of my quarters. My bit, I regret to say, was
not like his in any respect but shape. I had a rather ragged bit of
turf, and he had a glowing mass of flowers. The monotony of my
grass-plat was only broken by the marrow-bones and beef-ribs which my
dog first picked and then played with under my windows. I was as fond of
him as my brother-officer was of his flowers.