“Lookatthatdog，“hecriedtoMcTeague，showinghimafinely-bredIrishsetter。“That’sthedogthatbelongedtotheduckontheavenue，thedogwecalledforthatday。
I’vebought’um。Theduckthoughthehadthedistemper，andjustthrew’umaway。Nothunwrongwith’umbutalittlecatarrh。Ain’theabird？Say，ain’theabird？Lookathisflag；it’sperfect；andseehowhecarrieshistailonalinewithhisback。Seehowstiffandwhitehiswhiskersare。Oh，bydamn！youcan’tfoolmeonadog。Thatdog’sawinner。“
AttheCliffHousethetwosatdowntotheirbeerinaquietcornerofthebilliard-room。Therewerebuttwoplayers。
Somewhereinanotherpartofthebuildingamammothmusic-
boxwasjanglingoutaquickstep。Fromoutsidecamethelong，rhythmicalrushofthesurfandthesonorousbarkingofthesealsuponthesealrocks。Thefourdogscurledthemselvesdownuponthesandedfloor。