232 BOMBAY DUCKS 
He knows what obedience is, although he sometimes 
acts as if he did not. He is slow to make friends 
among men, but once made he retains them by faithful 
devotion. He is not demonstrative in his friendship. 
He has been known to wag his tail; but he performs 
this action sedately and decorously, I might say, half- 
heartedly. He never dreams of wagging the whole 
posterior end of his body, as some dogs do. He is 
enthusiastic over nothing, not even his food. You 
hand him a bone; he accepts it with a déasé indiffer- 
ence which is quite refreshing. He has no pretty, 
winning ways, no mischievous tricks. He is essentially 
a man’s dog. 
Tony is what the women-folk call an “ affectionate 
dog ”’—this means that he makes friends with every 
stranger who comes within the gates. The more 
strange the person, the more pleased is Tony to see 
him. He is fond of all men, and loves eatables as 
himself. He is as partial to the kitchen as a schoolboy 
to the tuck shop. Mischievous, restless, and disobedient, 
Tony is the canine counterpart of the bad boy whose 
diary we all read with delight. 
Bob, although, unlike the volatile Tony, he does not 
spend his days in cutting mad capers, in trying to 
catch his own tail and committing other such frivolities, 
likes exercise in moderation. He is distinctly fond of 
shikar, and is quite content to sit half the day under 
a tree contemplating with eager eyes the squirrels, 
which are disporting themselves among the branches 
and openly insulting him. At night, when the squirrels 
are asleep in their dreys, the musk-rats give him 
sufficient exercise to keep his body in health. 
