“Lookatthatdog，“hecriedtoMcTeague，showinghimafinely-bredIrishsetter。“That’sthedogthatbelongedtotheduckontheavenue，thedogwecalledforthatday。

　　I’vebought’um。Theduckthoughthehadthedistemper，andjustthrew’umaway。Nothunwrongwith’umbutalittlecatarrh。Ain’theabird？Say，ain’theabird？Lookathisflag；it’sperfect；andseehowhecarrieshistailonalinewithhisback。Seehowstiffandwhitehiswhiskersare。Oh，bydamn！youcan’tfoolmeonadog。Thatdog’sawinner。“

　　AttheCliffHousethetwosatdowntotheirbeerinaquietcornerofthebilliard-room。Therewerebuttwoplayers。

　　Somewhereinanotherpartofthebuildingamammothmusic-

　　boxwasjanglingoutaquickstep。Fromoutsidecamethelong，rhythmicalrushofthesurfandthesonorousbarkingofthesealsuponthesealrocks。Thefourdogscurledthemselvesdownuponthesandedfloor。

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