"Proper affinities," he declared, and repeatedly declared, with warm voice and moist eyes of appreciation.

"A gentleman, that Terrence, and a four-legged proper man.

A man-dog, if there ever was one, four-square as the legs on the four corners of him.

And prepotent! My word! His blood'd breed true for a thousand generations, and the cool head and the kindly brave heart of him." Terrence did not voice his sorrow, if sorrow he had; but his hovering about Biddy tokened his anxiety for her.

Michael, however, yielding to the contagion, sat beside his mother and barked angrily out across the increasing stretch of water as he would have barked at any danger that crept and rustled in the jungle.