But what amused him most was to watch Tumbu, who would look up and bark and gambol for hours to attract his little master's attention.
Whereat Down would become impatient and come over the camel's hump from the other pannier, rub her back against the little Prince and watch, too, with a sort of dignified contempt.

It was the way of dogs to be loud and effusive, and gushing; but it didn't mean much.

Tumbu, for instance, despite his display of affection, would leave his post to run after every wild thing he saw; and though he always came back to it, he was so helplessly breathless, with half a yard of red tongue hanging out, that he would have been little use had an enemy turned up and his protection been needed.
Cats were far wiser.

They sat still and watched; so they were always ready.
And one evening Down watched to some purpose.

Baby Akbar was asleep on some quilts and Down, as usual, lay keeping his feet warm, her eyes closed, purring away like a steaming kettle.
You would have sworn she was half asleep, but in a second there was one spring, something reared itself at her to strike, but her paws were too quick.