Snap 
all day. It cost me something to repaint the 
door where he scratched it, but at night he was 
quite ready to accept alittle food at my hands. 
In a week we were very good friends. He 
would sleep on my bed now and allow me to 
move my feet without snapping at them, 
intent to do me serious bodily harm. The no- 
breakfast cure had worked wonders; in three 
months we were—well, simply man and Dog, 
and he amply justified the telegram he came 
with. 
He seemed to be without fear. If a small 
Dog came near, he would take not the slight- 
est notice; if a medium-sized Dog, he would 
stick his stub of a tail rigidly up in the air, 
then walk around him, scratching contemptu- 
ously with his hind feet, and looking at the 
sky, the distance, the ground, anything but the 
Dog, and noting his presence only by frequent 
high-pitched growls. If the stranger did not 
move on at once, the battle began, and then 
the stranger usually moved on very rapidly. 
Snap sometimes got worsted, but no amount of 
sad experience could ever inspire him with a 
grain of caution. Once, while riding in a cab 
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