"Breeder?" says "Mr. Wyndham, sir."

"Unknown," says Nolan, getting very red around the jaws, and I drops
my head and tail. And "Mr. Wyndham, sir," writes that down.

"Mother's name?" says "Mr. Wyndham, sir."

"She was a--unknown," says the Master. And I licks his hand.

"Dam unknown," says "Mr. Wyndham, sir," and writes it down. Then he
takes the paper and reads out loud: "Sire unknown, dam unknown,
breeder unknown, date of birth unknown. You'd better call him the
'Great Unknown,'" says he. "Who's paying his entrance-fee?"

"I am," says Miss Dorothy.

Two weeks after we all got on a train for New York; Jimmy Jocks and
me following Nolan in the smoking-car, and twenty-two of the St.
Bernards, in boxes and crates, and on chains and leashes. Such a
barking and howling I never did hear, and when they sees me going,
too, they laughs fit to kill.

"Wot is this; a circus?" says the railroad-man.

But I had no heart in it. I hated to go. I knew I was no "show" dog,
even though Miss Dorothy and the Master did their best to keep me
from shaming them. For before we set out Miss Dorothy brings a man
from town who scrubbed and rubbed me, and sand-papered my tail, which
hurt most awful, and shaved my ears with the Master's razor, so you