The tram is bearing down upon them; a cab-driver is shouting at them; another huge brute, hoping to be in time to take a hand, is dragging a bread cart, followed by a screaming child, across the road from the opposite side; a small crowd is collecting; and a policeman is hastening to the scene. "It's worth," says the milk dog, "just twenty-times as much as you'll be worth before I've done with you." "Oh, you think so, do you?" "Yes, I do, you grandson of a French poodle, you cabbage-eating--" "There! I knew you'd have it over," says the poor milk-woman. "I told him he'd have it over." But he is busy, and heeds her not. Five minutes later, when the traffic is renewed, when the bread girl has collected her muddy rolls, and the policeman has gone off with the name and address of everybody in the street, he consents to look behind him. "It _is_ a bit of an upset," he admits. Then shaking himself free of care, he adds, cheerfully, "But I guess I taught him the price of chalk. He won't interfere with us again, I'm thinking." "I'm sure I hope not," says the old lady, regarding dejectedly the milky road. But his favourite sport is to wait at the top of the hill for another dog, and then race down. On these occasions the chief occupation of the other fellow is to run about behind, picking up the scattered articles, loaves, cabbages, or shirts, as they are jerked out. At the bottom of the hill, he stops and waits for his friend. "Good race, wasn't it?" he remarks, panting, as the Human comes up, laden to the chin. "I believe I'd have won it, too, if it hadn't been for that fool of a small boy. He was right in my way just as I turned the corner. _You noticed him_? Wish I had, beastly brat! What's he yelling like that for? _Because I knocked him down and ran over him_? Well, why didn't he get out of the way? It's disgraceful, the way people leave their children about for other people to tumble over. Halloa! did all those things come out? You couldn't have packed them very carefully; you should see to a thing like that. _You did not dream of my tearing down the hill twenty miles an hour_? Surely, you knew me better than to expect I'd let that old Schneider's dog pass me without an effort. But there, you never think. You're sure you've got them all? _You believe so_? I shouldn't 'believe' if I were you; I should run back up the hill again and make sure. _You feel too tired_? Oh, all right! don't blame me if anything is missing, that's all."