"What have you got? Huh! Nothing but a kid!" said the gambler, in
supreme contempt.

"And a pup!" said Keno, aggressively.

The gambler ignored the presence of the child, especially as Tintoretto
bounded clumsily forward and bowled his own shaking effigy of a canine
endways in one glad burst of friendship.

The black-and-tan let out a feeble yelp. With his boot the gambler
threw Tintoretto six feet away, where he landed on his feet and turned
about growling and barking in puppywise questioning of this sudden
manoeuvre. With a few more staccato yelps, the shivering black-and-tan
retreated behind the gambler's legs.

"Of all the ugly brutes I ever seen," said Parky, "that's the worst
yellow flea-trap of the whole caboose."

"Wal, I don't know," drawled Jim, as he patted his timid little pilgrim
on the back in a way of comfort. "All dogs look alike to a flea, and I
reckon Tintoretto is as good flea-feed as the next. And, anyhow, I
wouldn't have a dog the fleas had deserted. When the fleas desert a
dog, it's the same as when the rats desert a ship. About that time a
dog has lost his doghood, and then he ain't no better than a man who's
lost his manhood."

"Aw, I'd thump you and the cur together if you didn't have that kid on
deck," sneered the gambler.

"You couldn't thump a drum," answered Jim, easily. "Come back here,