s. To keep silent
before the curtain went up was no hardship for him. But when the curtain
did go up, he declined to join the rest of the dogs in their frantic
barking and yelping.

The dogs, sometimes alone and sometimes in couples and trios and groups,
left their chairs at command and performed the conventional dog tricks
such as walking on hind-legs, hopping, limping, waltzing, and throwing
somersaults. Wilton Davis's temper was short and his hand heavy
throughout the rehearsal, as the shrill yelps of pain from the lagging
and stupid attested.

In all, during that day and the forenoon of the next, three long
rehearsals took place. Michael's troubles ceased for the time being. At
command, he silently got on the chair and silently sat there. "Which
shows, dearest, what a bit of the stick will do," Davis bragged to his
wife. Nor did the pair of them dream of the scandalizing part Michael
was going to play in their first performance.

Behind the curtain all was ready on the full stage. The dogs sat on
their chairs in abject silence with Davis and his wife menacing them to
remain silent, while, in front of the curtain, Dick and Daisy Bell
delighted the matinee audience with their singing and dancing. And all
went well, and no one in the audience would have suspected the full stage
of dogs behind the curtain had not Dick and Daisy, accompanied by the
orchestra, begun to sing "Roll Me Down to Rio."

Michael could not help it. Even as Kwaque had long before mastered him
by the jews' harp, and Steward by love, and Harry Del Mar by the
harmonica, so now was he mastered by the strains of the orchestra and the
voices of the man and woman lifting the old familiar rhythm, taught him
by Steward, of "Roll Me Down to Rio." Despite himself, despite his
sullenness, the forces compulsive opened his jaws and set all his throat
vibrating in accompaniment.

From beyond the curtain came a titter of children and women that grew
into a roar and drowned out the voices of Dick and Daisy. Wilton Davis
cursed unbelievably as he sprang down the stage to Michael. But Michael
howled on, and the audience laughed on. Michael was still howling when
the short club smote him. The shock and hurt of it made him break off
and yelp an involuntary cry of pain.

"Knock his block off, dearest," Mrs. Davis counselled.

And then ensued battle royal. Davis struck shrewd blows that could be
heard, as were heard the snarls and growls of Micha