Beside a still smoking lime-kiln an
abandoned fire was burning down into red coals. The little hut of the
lime-burner was beyond in a hollow, and behind that again was a lean-to,
like a small shed or stable. Hither stole the dwarf, first pausing to
listen a moment at the door of the hut.
Leaning into the darkness of the shed, he gave a soft, crooning call. Low
growls of dogs came in quick reply. He stepped inside, and spoke to them:
"Good dogs! good dogs! good Musket, Coffee, Filthy, Jo-Jo--steady,
steady, idiots!" for the huge brutes were nosing him, throwing themselves
against: him, and whining gratefully. Feeling the wall, he took down some
harness, and, in the dark, put a set on each dog--mere straps for the
shoulders, halters, and traces; called to them sharply to be quiet, and,
keeping hold of their collars, led them out into the night. He paused to
listen again. Presently he drove the dogs across the road, and attached
them to a flat vehicle, without wheels or runners, used by Garotte for
the drawing of lime and stones. It was not so heavy as many machines of
the kind, and at a quick word from the dwarf the dogs darted away.
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