While sugaring and
stirring our coffee, the cook stood by the fire holding two long rods
in his hands, upon the ends of which were slices of bacon broiling
before the glowing coals. Suddenly he exclaimed:
"Look there, sergeant laddies! look there!" raising and pointing with
both sticks and the rashers of bacon towards the reed-grass behind
us.
There in its very edge sat Mistress Vic, winking her eyes and
twitching her ears deprecatingly, plainly in doubt as to her
reception.
"Stop, boys! keep quiet!" I said, to prevent a movement in her
direction. "Vic, you bad girl, how dared you follow me?"
No reply, only a slow closing and opening of the eyes and an
accompanying forward and backward movement of the ears.
"Go home! Go!"
The setter rose, dropped her head, and, turning dejectedly,
disappeared with drooping tail into the tall grass. Both boys
exclaimed at once:
"Don't drive her off, sir! Poor little Vic!"
"Well, go and see if you can coax her back. If she returns with you
she may go to La Paz."
The boys ran eagerly into the grass, and soon I heard them soothing
and pitying the dog, telling her that it was all right, and that she
could go.
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