Bragg sawing away at his hat as he spoke, and then sticking
the fox-head handle of his whip under his chin.
Puff stood mute for some seconds.
'My Lord Scamperdale,' continued Mr. Bragg, scrutinizing our friend
attentively, 'was as likely a man, sir, as ever I see'd, sir, to make an
'untsman, for he had a deal of ret (rat) ketchin' cunnin' about him, and,
as I said before, didn't care one dim for his neck, but a more signal
disastrous failure was never recognized. It was quite lamentable to witness
his proceeding.'
'How?' asked Mr. Puffington.
'How, sir?' repeated Mr. Bragg; 'why, sir, in all wayses. He had no dog
language, to begin with--he had little idea of making a cast--no science,
no judgement, no manner--no nothin'--I'm dim'd if ever I see'd sich a mess
as he made.'
Puff looked unutterable things.
'He never did no good, in fact, till I fit him with Frostyface. _I_ taught
Frosty,' continued Mr. Bragg. 'He whipped in to me when I 'unted the Duke
of Downeybird's 'ounds--nice, 'cute, civil chap he was--of all my
pupils--and I've made some first-rate 'untsmen, I'm dim'd if I don't think
Frostyface does me about as much credit as any on 'em.
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