Michel?' I said. 'Catinat will not eat the eggs, perhaps, but he will eat the hens.'
'If a misfortune like that were to occur, I know a method of curing him of eating hens.'
'Well—but in the meantime the hens would be eaten.'
Scarcely had I uttered these words, when a frightful noise was heard in the stable-yard, as loud as that of a pack of hounds in full cry, but mingled with howls of rage and pain which indicated a deadly combat.
'Michel!' I cried, 'do you hear that? '
'Oh yes, I hear it,' he answered, 'but those must be the neighbours' dogs fighting.'
'Michel, those are Catinat and Pritchard killing each other!'
'Impossible, sir—I have separated them.'
'Well, then, they have met again.'
'It is true,' said Michel, 'that scoundrel Pritchard can open the stable-door as well as any one.'
'Then, you see, Pritchard is a dog of courage; he'll have opened the stable-door for Catinat on purpose to fight him. Be quick, Michel, I am really afraid one of them will be killed.'
Michel darted into the passage which led to the stable, and no sooner had he disappeared than I knew from the lamentations which I heard that some misfortune had happened. In a minute or two Michel reappeared sobbing bitterly and carrying Pritchard in his arms.
'Look, sir! just look!' he said; 'this is the last we shall see of Pritchard—look what your fine sporting dog has done to him. Catinat, indeed! it is Catilina he should be called! '
I ran up to Pritchard, full of concern—I had a great love for him, though he had often made me angry. He was a dog of much originality, and the unexpected things he did were only a proof of genius.
'What do you think is the matter?' I asked Michel.
'The matter?—the matter is that he is dead!'
