“Well, well!” said the good-natured old man. “Perhaps I’ll come after you, some day soon. But I _must_ go back _now_. You see I left off at a comma, and it’s so awkward not knowing how the sentence finishes! Besides, you’ve got to go through Dogland first, and I’m always a little nervous about dogs. But it’ll be quite easy to come, as soon as I’ve completed my new invention—for carrying one’s-_self_, you know. It wants just a _little_ more working-out.” “Won’t that be very tiring, to carry _yourself_?” Sylvie enquired. “Well, no, my child. You see, whatever fatigue one incurs by _carrying_, one saves by _being carried_! Good-bye, dears! Good-bye, Sir!” he added to my intense surprise, giving my hand an affectionate squeeze. “Good-bye, Professor!” I replied: but my voice sounded strange and far away, and the children took not the slightest notice of our farewell. Evidently they neither saw me nor heard me, as, with their arms lovingly twined round each other, they marched boldly on. CHAPTER XIII. A VISIT TO DOGLAND. “There’s a house, away there to the left,” said Sylvie, after we had walked what seemed to me about fifty miles. “Let’s go and ask for a night’s lodging.” “It looks a very comfable house,” Bruno said, as we turned into the road leading up to it. “I doos hope the Dogs will be kind to us, I _is_ so tired and hungry!” A Mastiff, dressed in a scarlet collar, and carrying a musket, was pacing up and down, like a sentinel, in front of the entrance. He started, on catching sight of the children, and came forwards to meet them, keeping his musket pointed straight at Bruno, who stood quite still, though he turned pale and kept tight hold of Sylvie’s hand, while the Sentinel walked solemnly round and round them, and looked at them from all points of view. [Illustration: THE MASTIFF-SENTINEL] “Oobooh, hooh boohooyah!” He growled at last. “Woobah yahwah oobooh! Bow wahbah woobooyah? Bow wow?” he asked Bruno, severely. Of course _Bruno_ understood all this, easily enough. All Fairies understand Doggee—that is, Dog-language. But, as _you_ may find it a little difficult, just at first, I had better put it into English for you. “Humans, I verily believe! A couple of stray Humans! What Dog do you belong to? What do you want?” “We don’t belong to a _Dog_!” Bruno began, in Doggee. (“Peoples _never_ belongs to Dogs!” he whispered to Sylvie.) But Sylvie hastily checked him, for fear of hurting the Mastiff’s feelings. “Please, we want a little food, and a night’s lodging—if there’s room in the house,” she added timidly. Sylvie spoke Doggee very prettily: but I think it’s almost better, for _you_, to give the conversation in English. “The _house_, indeed!” growled the Sentinel. “Have you never seen a _Palace_ in your life? Come along with me! His Majesty must settle what’s to be done with you.”