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 very much, but the old fellow had gotten into the habit of growling about everything; it was sort of second nature with him.

"Couldn't eat it, did you say? Made you sick? Well, my fine dandy, you must be somebody's woolly lamb dog. You must be a sort of blanket poodle. Might I inquire just who you are and where you came from?"

Pierre did not notice the irony in the old bull's tones and was all eagerness to tell his story. He wagged his tail vehemently and smiled his very best dog smile.

"You see," he said, edging up close to the old fighter and becoming confidential, "I am a stranger in these parts. My home is in France.

"That is away off, far across the great water. We came in a mighty floating