Hither stole the dwarf, first pausing to listen a moment at the door of the hut.
Leaning into the darkness of the shed, he gave a soft, crooning call.
Low growls of dogs came in quick reply.

He stepped inside, and spoke to them: "Good dogs! good dogs! good Musket, Coffee, Filthy, Jo-Jo--steady, steady, idiots!" for the huge brutes were nosing him, throwing themselves against: him, and whining gratefully.

Feeling the wall, he took down some harness, and, in the dark, put a set on each dog--mere straps for the shoulders, halters, and traces; called to them sharply to be quiet, and, keeping hold of their collars, led them out into the night.

He paused to listen again.

Presently he drove the dogs across the road, and attached them to a flat vehicle, without wheels or runners, used by Garotte for the drawing of lime and stones.