Bottom.

"WI' yer permission, Mr. Moore,'' said the little man, "I'll wheestle
ma dog, " and, turning, he whistled a shrill, peculiar note like the
cry of a disturbed peewit.

Straightway there came scurrying desperately up, ears back, head
down, tongue out, as if the world depended on his speed, a little
tawny beetle of a thing, who placed his forepaws against his
master's ankles and looked up into his face; then, catching sight of
the strangers, hurriedly he took up his position between them and
M'Adam, assuming his natural attitude of grisly defiance. Such a
laughable spectacle he made, that martial mite, standing at bay
with bristles up and teeth bared, that even James Moore smiled.

"Ma word! Ha' yo' brought his muzzle, man?" cried old Tammas,
the humorist; and, turning, climbed all in a heat on to an upturned
bucket that stood by. Whereat the puppy, emboldened by his foe's
retreat, advanced savagely to the attack, buzzing round the slippery
pail like a wasp on a windowpane, in vain attempt to reach the old
man.

Tammas stood on the top, hitching his trousers and looking down
on his assailant, the picture of mortal fear.

'Elp! Oh, 'elp!" he bawled. "Send for the sogers! fetch the p'lice!
For lawk-amussy's sake call him off, man!" Even Sam'l Todd,
watching the scene from the cart-shed, was tickled and burst into a
loud guffaw, heartily backed by 'Enry and oor Job. While M'Adam
remarked: "Ye're fitter for a stage than a stable-bucket, Mr.