I have since felt pretty
certain that Mr. Rowe gave his friend a sketch of our prospects and
intentions in the same spirit in which he had written to Mr. Johnson,
and I distinctly overheard the dog-fancier make some reply, in which
the words "hoffer a reward" were audible. But the barge-master shook
his head at suggestions probably drawn from his friend's professional
traditions, though the fancier told him some very good story about the
ill-tempered toy-dog, to which he referred with such violent jerks of
the head as threatened to throw his fur cap on to that of the brindled
gentleman who sat dripping and smiling at his feet.
When Mr. Rowe began to tell him something good in return, and in spite
of my utmost endeavours not to hear anything, the words "Linnet Flash"
became audible, I blushed to hear the fancier choking over his
shandy-gaff with laughter, and I feared at our project for settling on
the island.
The interview was now at an end, but as Mr. Rowe stepped briskly on
board, the fur cap nodded to the forehatch, where Fred and I were
sitting on coiled ropes, and the fancier said very knowingly, "The
better the breed the gamier the beast."
He patted the bull-dog as he said it, and the bull-dog kissed his
dirty hand.
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