time. Give that dog something to fasten his eye on--don't care what
it is: anything from a plug hat to a skating-rink--and there his eye
stays like it was chained with a trace-chain. Now, I'll tell you what
I'll do with--"

I suddenly informed him in a peremptory tone that nothing would induce
me to purchase a dog at that moment, and then I pushed him out and
shut the door. When he was gone, I went across the street to see
Butterwick about top-dressing my grassplot. He was out, and I sat down
on the porch chair to wait for him. A second later the proprietor of
the dog came shuffling through the gate with the dog at his heels.
When he reached the porch, he said, not recognizing me,

"I say, pardner, the man across the street there told me you wanted a
good watch-dog, and I came right over with this splendid animal. Look
at him! Never saw such an eye as that in a dog, now, did you? Well,
now, when this dog fixes that eye on anything, it remains. There it
stays. Earthquakes, or fires, or torchlight processions, or bones, or
nothing, can induce him to move. Therefore, what I say is that I offer
you that dog for--"

[Illustration: A DOG FOR SALE]

Then I got up in silence and walked deliberately out into the street,
and left the man standing there. As I reached the sidewalk I saw
Butterwick going into Col. Coffin's office. I went over after him,
while the man with the dog went in the opposite direction. Butterwick
was in the back office; and as the front room was empty, I sat down
in a chair until he got through with Coffin and came out. In a few
minutes there was a rap at the door. I said,