have broke my
chain I would have run all the way home and hid myself under the horse
trough.

All night long they talked and sang, and passed greetings with old pals,
and the homesick puppies howled dismal. Them that couldn't sleep
wouldn't let no others sleep, and all the electric lights burned in the
roof, and in my eyes. I could hear Jimmy Jocks snoring peaceful, but I
could only doze by jerks, and when I dozed I dreamed horrible. All the
dogs in the hall seemed coming at me for daring to intrude, with their
jaws red and open, and their eyes blazing like the lights in the roof.
"You're a street dog! Get out, you street dog!" they yells. And as they
drives me out, the pipe clay drops off me, and they laugh and shriek;
and when I looks down I see that I have turned into a black-and-tan.

They was most awful dreams, and next morning, when Miss Dorothy comes
and gives me water in a pan, I begs and begs her to take me home; but
she can't understand. "How well Kid is!" she says. And when I jumps into
the Master's arms and pulls to break my chain, he says, "If he knew all
as he had against him, miss, he wouldn't be so gay." And from a book
they reads out the names of the beautiful high-bred terriers which I
have got to meet. And I can't make 'em understand that I only want to
run away and hide myself where no one will see me.

Then suddenly men comes hurrying down our street and begins to brush the
beautiful bull-terriers; and the Master rubs me with a towel so excited
that his hands trembles awful, and Miss Dorothy tweaks my ears between
her gloves, so that the blood runs to 'em, and they turn pink and stand
up straight and sharp.

"Now, then, Nolan," says she, her voice shaking just like his fingers,
"keep his head up--and never let the judge lose sight of him." When I
hears that my legs breaks under me, for I knows all about judges. Twice
the old Master goes up before the judge for fighting me with other dogs,
and the judge promises him if he ever does it again he'll chain him up
in jail. I knew he'd find me out. A judge can't be fooled by no
pipe-clay. He can see right through you, and he reads your insides.

The judging-ring, which is where the judge holds out, was so like a
fighting-pit that when I come in it, and find six other dogs there, I
springs into position, so that when they lets us go I can defend myself.
But the Master smooths down my hair and whispers, "Hold 'ard, Kid, hold
'ard. This ain't a fight,"