That instant arose what I fancied must be an unusual sound in the place: two of the dogs were fighting. The master got up. I thought with myself, “Now we shall see his notions of discipline!” nor had I long to wait. In his hand was a small riding-whip, which I afterward found he always carried in avoidance of having to inflict a heavier punishment from inability to inflict a lighter; for he held that, in all wrong-doing man can deal with, the kindest thing is not only to punish, but, with animals especially, to punish at once. He ran to the conflicting parties. They separated the moment they heard the sound of his coming. One came cringing and crawling to his feet; the other--it was the nondescript Tadpole--stood a little way off, wagging his tail, and cocking his head up in his master’s face. He gave the one at his feet several pretty severe cuts with the whip, and sent him off. The other drew nearer. His master turned away and took no notice of him. “May I ask,” I said, when he returned to his seat, “why you did not punish both the animals for their breach of the peace?” “They did not both deserve it.” “How could you tell that? You were not looking when the quarrel began!” “Ah, but you see I know the dogs! One of them--I saw at a glance how it was--had found a bone, and dog-rule about finding is, that what you find is yours. The other, notwithstanding, wanted a share. It was Tadpole who found the bone, and he--partly from his sense of justice--cannot endure to have his claims infringed upon. Every dog of them knows that Tadpole must be in the right.” “He looked as if he expected you to approve of his conduct!” “Yes, that is the worst of Tadpole! he is so self-righteous as to imagine he deserves praise for standing on his rights! He is but a dog, you see, and knows no better!” “I noticed you disregarded his appeal.” “I was not going to praise him for nothing!” “You expect them to understand your treatment?” “No one can tell how infinitesimally small the beginnings of understanding, as of life, may be. The only way to make animals reasonable--more reasonable, I mean--is to treat them as reasonable. Until you can go down into the abysses of creation, you cannot know when a nature begins to see a difference in quality of action.” “I confess,” I said, “Mr. Tadpole did seem a little ashamed as he went away.” “And you see Blanco White at my feet, taking care not to touch them. He is giving time, he thinks, for my anger to pass.” He laughed the merriest laugh. The dog looked up eagerly, but dropped his head again.