I climbed back into my litter.
As my men shouldered it, the doorkeeper or some one of his helpers made
the mistake of unchaining the watch-dog at me.
He was a big, short-haired, black and white Aquitanian dog. He flew at the
calves of my bearers, snarling, and would have bitten them badly had I not
half rolled, half fallen from my litter, almost into his jaws; in fact,
not a foot in front of him.
As all such animals always do with me, he checked, cowered, fawned and
then exhibited every symptom of recognition, delight and affection. I
patted him, pulled his ears, smoothed his spine and climbed back into my
litter. The dog took his place under it as naturally as if I had raised
him from a puppy and kept neatly underneath it, all the way to the
Satronian Mansion.
There, at sight of me, as I descended from my litter, the doorkeeper
loosed his big fawn-colored Molossian hound at me. And he came in silence,
but his lips wrinkled off his teeth, swift as a lion and looking in fact
as big as a yearling lioness and not unlike one in outline and color.
The Aquitanian from under the litter flew at him with a snarl, the
Molossian replied with a louder snarl, the two dogs clinched and tore each
other, snarling, and hung to each other, worrying and growling and
snarling, to the delight of my bearers.
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