Just at this moment a heavy foot was heard upon the stoop, succeeded by
a whining and a great scratching at the door. "Here comes that Indian,
Jem," cried Tom, and as he spoke the door flew open, and in rushed old
Whino, the tall black and tan foxhound, and Bonnybelle, and Blossom, and
another large blue-mottled bitch, of the Southern breed. It was a
curious sight to observe by how sudden and intuitive an instinct the
hounds rushed up to Archer, and fawned upon him, jumping up with their
forepaws upon his knees, and thrusting their bland smiling faces almost
into his face; as he, nothing loath, nor repelling their caresses,
discoursed most eloquent dog-language to them, until, excited beyond all
measure, old Whino seated himself deliberately on the floor, raised his
nose toward the ceiling, and set up a long, protracted, and most
melancholy howl, which, before it had attained, however, to its grand
climax, was brought to a conclusion by being converted into a sharp and
treble yell! a consummation brought about by a smart application of
Harry's double-thonged four-horse whip, wielded with all the power of
Tom's right arm, and accompanied by a "Git out, now--the whole grist!
Kennel! now, kennel! out with them, Jem, consarn you; out with them, and
yourself, too! out of this, or I'll put the gad about you, you white
Deckerin' nigger you!"
"Come back, when you have put them up, Jem; and mind you don't let them
be where they can get at the setters, or they'll be fighting like the
devil," interposed Archer--"I want to have a chat with you.
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