"No, sir."

"Well, maybe you could lend me five dollars on that dog. I'll pay you
back to-morrow."

"Can't do it."

"Will you take him as a gift, and give me a chaw of terbacker?"

"I don't chew."

"Very strange," he muttered, thoughtfully. "There's no encouragement
for a man in this world. Sure you won't take him?"

"Yes, certain."

"Then, you miserable whelp, git out of here, or I'll kick the breath
out of you. Come, now, git!" And he gave the dog a kick that sent him
into the middle of the street, and then withdrew himself.

The trade in dogs certainly is not active in Millburg.

CHAPTER XXIV.

_THE DOG OF MR. BUTTERWICK'S, AND OTHER DOGS_.

One day I met Mr. Butterwick in the street leading his dog with a
chain. He said that it was a very valuable dog and he was anxious to
get it safely home, but he had to catch a train, and I would confer a
personal favor upon him if I would take the dog to my house and keep
it until he returned from the city. The undertaking was not a pleasant
one, but I disliked to disoblige Butterwick, and so I consented.
Butterwick gave me his end of the chain and left in a hurried manner.
I got the dog home with the greatest difficulty, and turned it into
the cellar. About an hour later I received a telegram from Butterwick
saying that he had been compelled to go down to the lower part of
Jersey, and that he wouldn't be home for a week or two. That was on
the 12th of June, and after that time only two persons entered the
cellar. The hired girl went down once after the cold beef, and came up
disheveled and bleeding, with a number of appalling dog-bites in
her legs, and I descended immediately afterward for the purpose of
pacifying the infuriated animal. He did not feel disposed to become
calm, however, and I deem it probable that if I had not suddenly
clambered into the coal-bin, where I remained until he fell asleep in
a distant corner about four hours later, I should certainly have been
torn to pieces. We thought we would have to try to get along with out
using the cellar until Butterwick could come up and take away his dog.
But Butterwick wrote to say that he couldn't come, and the dog, after
eating everything in the cellar and barking all through every night,
finally bolted up stairs into the kitchen on the 2d of July, and
established himself in the back yard. After that we used the front
door exclusively while we were waiting for Butterwick to come up. The
dog had fi