Talking thus about Indians, under the gloom of the trees, seemed in some unaccountable way to suggest the idea of witches to the mind of Pythagoras. Perhaps, in accordance with his pet theory of development, he was cogitating whether, ages ago, the red man's family horse might not have been a broomstick. At any rate, he suddenly gave a new turn to the conversation by asking Shamus why, when the dogs pointed the witch-hazel during our quail hunt at Topeka, he had affirmed that the canine race could see spirits and witches which to mortal eyes were invisible. Now, the Dobeen had been bred on an Irish moor, where the whole air is woven, like a Gobelin tapestry, full of dreams of the marvelous, and where whenever an unusual object is noticed by moonlight, the frightened peasant, instead of stopping a moment to investigate the cause, rushes shivering to his hut to tell of the fearful _phookas_ he has seen. He was very superstitious, and we had often been amused at his evasions, when, as sometimes happened, his faith conflicted with our commands. The time might be near when such peculiarities would prove troublesome instead of amusing, and it was well, therefore, that we should get a peep at the foundations of our cook's faith, and perhaps that portion of it which related to our friends, the dogs, would be especially entertaining. Moreover, we had had so much of the red man that we were glad to welcome an Irish witch to our first camp-fire. Dobeen's narrative was substantially as follows, though I can not attempt to clothe it in his exact language, and still less in the rich brogue which yet clung to him after years of ups and downs in "Ameriky." "Dogs can study out many things better than men can," said Shamus, in his most impressive manner. "Before I left old Ireland for America, I had a dashing beast, with as much wit as any boy in the country. He could poach a rabbit and steal a bird from under the gamekeeper's nose, an' give the swatest howl of warnin' whenever a bailiff came into them parts." Sachem suggested that these were rather remarkable habits for a dog connected with the great house of Dobeen. "But yez must know he was only a pup when my fortunes went by," responded Shamus, "and he learnt these tricks afterward. Ah, but he was a smart chap! Couldn't he smell bailiffs afore ever they came near, an' see all the witches and ghosts, too, by second sight! He wouldn't never go near the O'Shea's house, that had a haunted room, though pretty Mary, the house-girl, often coaxed at him with the nicest bits of meat." Sachem thought that perhaps the animal's second sight might have shown him that stray shot from pretty Mary's master, aimed at a vagabond, might perhaps hit the vagabond's dog.