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of hours； and dried ourselves and fed ourselves； and talked about the view；
and just before we left an incident occurred that shows how much more
stirring in this world are the influences of evil compared with those of
good。
A traveller entered。 He seemed a careworn man。 He carried a brick
in his hand； tied to a piece of rope。 He entered nervously and hurriedly；
closed the door carefully behind him； saw to it that it was fastened； peered
out of the window long and earnestly； and then； with a sigh of relief； laid
his brick upon the bench beside him and called for food and drink。
There was something mysterious about the whole affair。 One
wondered what he was going to do with the brick； why he had closed the
door so carefully； why he had looked so anxiously from the window； but
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his aspect was too wretched to invite conversation； and we forbore；
therefore； to ask him questions。 As he ate and drank he grew more
cheerful； sighed less often。 Later he stretched his legs； lit an evil…
smelling cigar； and puffed in calm contentment。
Then it happened。 It happened too suddenly for any detailed
explanation of the thing to be possible。 I recollect a Fraulein entering the
room from the kitchen with a pan in her hand。 I saw her cross to the
outer door。 The next moment the whole room was in an uproar。 One
was reminded of those pantomime transformation scenes where； from
among floating clouds； slow music； waving flowers； and reclining fairies；
one is suddenly transported into the midst of shouting policemen tumbling
yelling babies； swells fighting pantaloons； sausages and harlequins；
buttered slides and clowns。 As the Fraulein of the pan touched the door it
flew open； as though all the spirits of sin had been pressed against it；
waiting。 Two pigs and a chicken rushed into the room； a cat that had
been sleeping on a beer…barrel spluttered into fiery life。 The Fraulein
threw her pan into the air and lay down on the floor。 The gentleman with
the brick sprang to his feet； upsetting the table before him with everything
upon it。
One looked to see the cause of this disaster： one discovered it at once
in the person of a mongrel terrier with pointed ears and a squirrel's tail。
The landlord rushed out from another door； and attempted to kick him out
of the room。 Instead； he kicked one of the pigs； the fatter of the two。 It
was a vigorous； well…planted kick； and the pig got the whole of it； none of
it was wasted。 One felt sorry for the poor animal； but no amount of
sorrow anyone else might feel for him could compare with the sorrow he
felt for himself。 He stopped running about； he sat down in the middle of
the room； and appealed to the solar system generally to observe this unjust
thing that had come upon him。 They must have heard his complaint in
the valleys round about； and have wondered what upheaval of nature was
taking place among the hills。
As for the hen it scuttled； screaming； every way at once。 It was a
marvellous bird： it seemed to be able to run up a straight wall quite
easily； and it and the cat between them fetched down mostly everything
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that was not already on the floor。 In less than forty seconds there were
nine people in that room； all trying to kick one dog。 Possibly； now and
again； one or another may have succeeded； for occasionally the dog would
stop barking in order to howl。 But it did not discourage him。
Everything has to be paid for； he evidently argued； even a pig and chicken
hunt； and； on the whole； the game was worth it。
Besides； he had the satisfaction of observing that； for every kick he
received； most other living things in the room got two。 As for the
unfortunate pigthe stationary one； the one that still sat lamenting in the
centre of the roomhe must have averaged a steady four。 Trying to kick
this dog was like playing football with a ball that was never therenot
when you went to kick it； but after you had started to kick it； and had gone
too far to stop yourself； so that the kick had to go on in any case； your only
hope being that your foot would find something or another solid to stop it；
and so save you from sitting down on the floor noisily and completely。
When anybody did kick the dog it was by pure accident； when they were
not expecting to kick him； and； generally speaking； this took them so
unawares that； after kicking him； they fell over him。 And everybody；
every half…minute； would be certain to fall over the pig the sitting pig； the
one incapable of getting out of anybody's way。
How long the scrimmage might have lasted it is impossible to say。 It
was ended by the judgment of George。 For a while he had been seeking
to catch； not the dog but the remaining pig； the one still capable of activity。
Cornering it at last； he persuaded it to cease running round and round the
room； and instead to take a spin outside。 It shot through the door with
one long wail。
We always desire the thing we have not。 One pig； a chicken； nine
people； and a cat； were as nothing in that dog's opinion compared with the
quarry that was disappearing。 Unwisely； he darted after it； and George
closed the door upon him and shot the bolt。
Then the landlord stood up； and surveyed all the things that were lying
on the floor。
〃That's a playful dog of yours；〃 said he to the man who had come in
with the brick。
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〃He is not my dog；〃 replied the man sullenly。
〃Whose dog is it then？〃 said the landlord。
〃I don't know whose dog it is；〃 answered the man。
〃That won't do for me； you know；〃 said the landlord； picking up a
picture of the German Emperor； and wiping beer from it with his sleeve。
〃I know it won't；〃 replied the man； 〃I never expected it would。 I'm
tired of telling people it isn't my dog。 They none of them believe me。〃
〃What do you want to go about with him for； if he's not your dog？〃
said the landlord。 〃What's the attraction about him？〃
〃I don't go about with him；〃 replied the man； 〃he goes about with me。
He picked me up this morning at ten o'clock； and he won't leave me。 I
thought I had got rid of him when I came in here。 I left him busy killing
a duck more than a quarter of an hour away。 I'll have to pay for that； I
expect； on my way back。〃
〃Have you tried throwing stones at him？〃 asked Harris。
〃Have I tried throwing stones at him！〃 replied the man；
contemptuously。 〃I've been throwing stones at him till my arm aches
with throwing stones； and he thinks it's a game； and brings them back to
me。 I've been carrying this beastly brick about with me for over an hour；
in the hope of being able to drown him； but he never comes near enough
for me to get hold of him。 He just sits six inches out of reach with his
mouth open； and looks at me。〃
〃It's the funniest story I've heard for a long while；〃 said the landlord。
〃Glad it amuses somebody；〃 said the man。
We left him helping the landlord to pick up the broken things； and
went our way。 A dozen yards outside the door the faithful animal was
waiting for his friend。 He looked tired； but contented。 He was
evidently a dog of strange and sudden fancies； and we feared for the
moment lest he might take a liking to us。 But he let us pass with
indifference。 His loyalty to this unresponsive man was touching； and we
made no atte