Part 54 (1/2)
”Dogs,” echoes the old one.
”Why, yes, daddy, we are talking about dogs.”
”What do you know about _dogs?_” says a full-blown _Jakey_, looking sharply at the old fellow.
”Know about _dogs?_”
”A' yes-s,” says _Jakey_. ”I bet dis five dollars, ole feller, you don't know a Spaniel from a butcher's _cur!_”
”Well,” responds the old one, transposing his legs, ”may be I _don't_, but it's _my_ 'pinion you'd make a sorry _fiste_ at best, if you had tail and ears a little longer!”
This _sally_ amused all but the young gentleman who ”run wid de machine,” and attracted general attention towards the old man, in whose eyes and wrinkles lurked a goodly share of mother wit and shrewdness.
_Jakey_ backing down, another of the by-standers put in.
”Poppy, I expect you know what a good dog is?”
”I reckon, boys, I orter. But I'm plaguy dry listening to your dog talk--confounded dry!”
”What'll you drink, daddy?” said half a dozen of the dog fanciers, thinking to wet the old man's whistle to get some fun out of him.
”What'll you drink?--come up, daddy.”
”Sperrets, boys, good old sperrets,” and the old codger drank; then giving his lips a wipe with the back of his hand, and drawing out a long, deep ”ah-h-h-h!” he again took his seat, observing, as he partially aroused his ugly and cross-grained mongrel--
”Here's a _dog_, boys.”
”That your dog, dad?” asked several.
”That's my dog, boys. He _is_ a dog.”
”Ain't he, tho'?” jocularly responded the dog men.
”What breed, daddy, do you call that dog of yours?” asked one.
”Breed? He ain't any breed, _he_ ain't. Stand up, Barney, (jerking up the sneaking-looking thing.) He's no breed, boys; look at him--see his tushes; growl, Barney, growl!--Ain't them tushes, boys? He's no breed, boys; _he's original stock!_”
”Well, so I was going to say,” says one.
”That dog,” says another, ”must be valuable.”
”Waluable?” re-echoes the old man; ”he is all that, boys; I wouldn't sell him; but, boys, I'm dry, dry as a powder horn--so much talkin'
makes one dry.”
”Well, come up, poppy; what'll you take?” said the boys.
”Sperrets, boys; good old sperrets. I do like good sperrets, boys, and that sperrets, Mister (to the ruffled-bosomed bar-keeper), o' your'n is like my dog--_can't be beat!_”
”Well, daddy,” continued the dog men, ”where'd you get your dog?”