was standing just
behind his chair, head hanging, ears lopping, lethargic patience showing
in every contour of his shaggy body.

"I have consorted with many of his kind," said Anthony, smiling, "and I
prefer his frank sincerity, his bravery under stress, his worldly poise,
his calm exterior, which does conceal the fiery depths of his nature;
in fact, all his so-called animal attributes I prefer, to the more
sophisticated allure of his human gender." Anthony laid a strong hand
on the little beast's shoulder, while the French woman regarded him
curiously out of long black eyes.

"There, take that, you good for nothing cur," and a man kicked a dog in
through the door, to lie in a twisted, bloody heap upon the floor.

"What do you mean, you brute!" called Anthony, springing upon the miner,
who immediately closed with him. Mignon screamed, and ran to stop them.

"Monsieur, for why you do--?"

"Aw, he got licked. I lost money on him."

"Yes, and you haven't paid me, neither. You shell out, you Buckeye
Pete!" spoke up a tall Kentuckian, with a mastiff on a leash.

"It wasn't a fair fight, Spotty Collins," whined Buckeye.

"It was--it was, so!" called a chorus of voices.

"I'll buy your dog," said Anthony. "That will pay your debts." Anthony
handed the money to Collins, picked up the half dead dog, and, holding
him against his immaculate new frilled shirt, he strode away toward
his claim over the mountain. The jack, whose attitude had hair, never
changed by so much as the waving of a suddenly raised an alert head and
as his benefactor vanished, he ambled quickly after him.

Pete sought to stop him at the door and in one lightning and concerted
movement, he bit and struck and kicked, scattering the crowd in all
directions. When the men watching Anthony down the street, burst into
laughter at the bizarre procession, the French girl silenced them with
fierce, hissing syllables..

"Heh! Dude Anthony, beloved of the b--"

"Zose words you shall not call la petite hound an' me. Even name of a
dog is for such as you too good to be call'. Monsieur, we take pleasaire
in your departure from hence."

"Go on, please the lady, Buckeye. There's no other jackass to keep you
here any longer."

And Buckeye departed in a perfect indigo haze of profanity.

* * * * *

"Mignon, have you heard the news?"

"Non, Monsieur, I 'ave sleep all ze day."

"Spotty Collins was found in Blue Ravine this morning, robbed and
murdered. You s