Detective and mystery stories; Mackinac Island (Mich. : Island) -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
"Hold thyself quiet, René. Wilt thou take the very sledge in, Lebeau?"
he said, apostrophizing the leaders. But no sooner was the last strap
loosened than all the dogs by common consent rushed at and over the
little cook and into the kitchen in a manner which would have insured
them severe chastisement in any other kitchen in the diocese. Pierre
darted about among their gaunt yellow bodies, railing at them for
knocking down his pans, and calling upon all the saints to witness their
rapacity; but in the mean time he was gathering together quickly
fragments of whose choice and savory qualities René and Lebeau had
distinct remembrance, and the other dogs anticipation. They leaped and
danced round him on their awkward legs and shambling feet, bit and
barked at each other, and rolled on the floor in a heap. Anywhere else
the long whip would have curled round their lank ribs, but in old
Pierre's kitchen they knew they were safe. With a fiercely delivered and
eloquent selection from the strong expressions current in the Paris of
his youth, the little cook made his way through the snarling throng of
yellow backs and legs, and emptied his pan of fragments on the snow
outside. Forth rushed the dogs, and cast themselves in a solid mass upon
the little heap.
"Hounds of Satan?" said Pierre.
"They are, indeed," replied Antoine. "But leave them now, my friend, and
close the door, since warmth is a blessed gift."
But Pierre still stood on the threshold, every now and then darting out
to administer a rap to the gluttons, or to pull forward the younger and
weaker ones. He presided with exactest justice over the whole repast,
and ended by bringing into the kitchen a forlorn and drearily ugly
young animal that had not obtained his share on account of the
preternaturally quick side snatchings of Lebeau. To this dog he now
presented an especial banquet in an earthen dish behind the door.
"If there is anything I abhor, it is the animal called dog," he said,
seating himself at last, and wiping his forehead.
"That is plainly evident," replied old Antoine, gravely.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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