How much truth there is in this gruesome legend it is impossible to say, but the fact remains that wherever the Turk is found, there, too, the ubiquitous _kiopek_, or _skilo_, is seen. Nor does it seem to exist north of Vienna--that outermost ring of Turkish invasion. Dogs, very like _skilos_, are to be met in Hungary; you have no doubt of their existence when you cross the Danube into Servia; they are numerous in Bulgaria, and you fall into the thick of them when you reach Constantinople, where until recently they were supposed to number 80,000. In size and appearance they resemble the short-haired Scotch collie, but without the sharpness of nose, and their ears are shorter. With all the instincts of the nomad--unkempt, unkept, and owning no master--their home is the street, where they are born and die, a boon and a bane to mankind. They are the former because they are the scavengers--sometimes the only scavengers--that clean the streets of the refuse thrown into them, and which would otherwise putrefy and breed disease. They are the latter because they collect at night over refuse-heaps, and fight, bark, and yell over the disputed possession of coveted morsels. Their noise disturbs your slumbers and irritates your nerves. Then, lying as they do in the street, you might in the darkness stumble against one, and experience in return something hard and sharp, which would send you howling in your turn. But _skilos_ do not thrive on refuse alone; they hang about butchers' shops, and are plentiful near the Sultan's palace-kitchens and soldiers' barracks, where remains of food are dispensed to them. At the Ministry of War, in Stamboul, a special man is employed to give them fragments of the soldiers' bread. These he carries in a capacious hamper on his back, and, holding a thick stick in his hand, he proceeds to the public square, where hundreds of dogs await and surround him. His first action is to clear a wide circle with his stick around him, and then he suddenly empties the contents of his hamper. A rush and charge of _skilos_ follows. They tumble over one another in that hissing sea of dogs, but do not seem to mind, provided they can seize a fragment of bread and bolt away. There is strategy, however, even in dogdom, and some, more cunning and fleet-footed than others, do not join in the scrimmage, but quietly await the result at some point of vantage, and, spotting any dog that retires laden with spoil, pursue it, and snatch away its prize.