DOGS I HAVE KNOWN 67 



the dog in the garden. He soon picked up the 

 scent of the men, and quickly ran into them in an 

 outhouse about two miles off. Numberless were 

 the attempts made to poison him, but he would 

 never touch the stuff, however cunningly prepared. 

 We constantly found poisoned liver, and things of 

 that kind, but it was of no use — Wallace would 

 sniff at the stuff, give it a scratch with his paw, 

 and pass on. There was one very amusing trait 

 in his character, and that was his determination 

 that no one should bathe if he could help it. This 

 came, I think, from his having, on one occasion, 

 brought a child out of a pond into which it had 

 fallen. By the way, he did not do it at all in the 

 graceful way dogs are represented in goody-books, 

 but by a firm nip in a very unromantic part of the 

 child's body, making it roar out lustily, thereby 

 preventing the bystanders from being at all uneasy 

 on its account. 



An amusing instance of this occurred one day. A 

 young cousin of mine was staying with us and said 

 he should go clown to the river and bathe — asking at 

 the same time to take Wallace with him. I con- 

 sented, quite forgetting his habit. The two were 

 away some time, but at length I saw them return- 

 ing, the lad evidently in a very bad temper about 

 something. When he came up he said " that 



