ropping on his knees before the dog, and uplifting his finger to give
force to the command. At the word, Granuka bounced down upon his hinder
end, and assumed an aspect of profound gravity.

"A _viva_ for the _nina_ Isabel," said his instructor.

Granuka stretched out his paws before him, laid his nose upon them, and
winked with his eyes as if he were composing himself to sleep.

"Won't you?" said the soldier. "Well, then, a _viva_ for the _puta_
Christina."

This time the eyes were closed entirely, and the animal gave a
dissatisfied growl.

"A _viva_ for the king!" was the next command.

The dog jumped briskly up, gave a little spring into the air, and
uttered three short, quick barks, which were echoed by shouts of
laughter from the soldiers. Having done this, he again sat down, grave
and composed.

"Once more," said his instructor, "and a good one, Granuka. _Viva el Tio
Zumalacarregui!_"

This time the dog seemed to have lost his senses, or to have been bitten
by a tarantula. He jumped off the ground half-a-dozen times to thrice
his own height, giving a succession of little joyous yelps that
resembled a human cachinnation far more than any sounds of canine origin
or utterance. Then, as if delighted at his own performances, he dashed
out of the circle, and began tearing about the field, his tail in the
air, yelling like mad. The soldiers doubled themselves up, and rolled
upon the grass in convulsions of merriment. As ill-luck would have it,
however, Granuka, in one of his frolicsome gyrations, in the performance
of which the curve described was larger than in the preceding ones, came
within sight and scent of the _al fresco_ kitchen, and that at the
precise moment when the cook, either conceiving his olla to be
sufficiently stewed, or desirous to ascertain its progress by actual
inspection, had fished out by the claw one of the anomalous-looking
bipeds whose feathers bestrewed the ground, and had placed it upon the
reversed lid of the camp-kettle. Granuka, either unusually hungry, or
imagining that the savoury morsel had been prepared expressly as a
reward for his patience and docility under his recent trials, made a
dart at the bird, caught it up in his mouth, and with lowered tail, but
redoubled speed, scampered towards the houses.

"_Maldito perro! Ladron!_" roared the cook, hurling his drumstick after
the thief, abandoning his kitchen, and starting off in pursuit, followed
by the soldiers, who had witne