CHAPTER XL 



ROTATION OF CEOPS 



THEY are eating dinner at the farm. A large 

 platter of pork cutlets and beans is smoking 

 in the center of the table. Every one has been 

 served. It is a pleasure to see these good people 

 eat, they have such hearty appetites. Jacques, the 

 big ox-driver, is the first to finish. He throws his 

 bone away. Azor is there to seize it. He lies flat 

 on his stomach and takes the bone in his fore paws. 

 Hear him bite on his hard pittance. How it cracks ! 

 Let any one beware of teasing Azor now. An angry 

 growl and a baring of his four formidable canine 

 teeth would warn the rash intruder to have done 

 with his joking at once, for if not — well, I will not 

 be responsible for the consequences. Azor is not 

 a surly dog; far from it; but he is well within his 

 rights when he brooks no nonsense at his meals. 

 He has done his duty most valiantly as a dog. Night 

 before last some wolves were prowling about the 

 sheep-fold, and he drove them off. Let Azor gnaw 

 his bone in peace. 



Ha, there! The big tortoise-shell cat, Master 

 Minet, is otherwise minded. He draws near, hair 

 erect, tail as large around as your arm, to try to 

 frighten Azor and rob him of his allowance. Azor, 



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