Bob, Son of Battle by Alfred Ollivant
page 29 of 317 (09%)
page 29 of 317 (09%)
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wriggling desperately round, made its teeth meet in its adversary's
shirt. At which M'Adam shook it gently and laughed. Then he set to examining it. Apparently some six weeks old; a tawny coat, fiery eyes, a square head with small, cropped ears, and a comparatively immense jaw; the whole giving promise of great strength, if little beauty. And this effect was enhanced by the manner of its docking. For the miserable relic of a tail, yet raw, looked little more than a red button adhering to its wearer's stern. M'Adam's inspection was as minute as it was apparently absorbing; he omitted nothing from the square muzzle to the lozenge-like scut. And every now and then he threw a quick glance at the man at the window, who was watching the careful scrutiny a thought uneasily. "Ye've cut him short," he said at length, swinging round on the drover. "Ay; strengthens their backs," the big man answered with averted gaze. M'Adam's chin went up in the air; his. mouth partly opened and his eyelids partly closed as he eyed his informant. "Oh, ay," he said. "Gie him back to me," ordered the drover surlily. He took the puppy and set it on the floor; whereupon it immediately resumed |
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