One morning when we were starting out for a long forenoon’s walk, in Constantinople, the “Doubter” was sceptical about the possibility of getting anything to eat on the way, and so took the precaution to provide himself with a couple of ham sandwiches, which he stowed away in the rear pocket of his coat, and thereby hangs a tale.
In one place we passed a group of dogs that looked up inquiringly, but showed no fight or other ugliness. As we went by them the largest of the pack, a lank beast about the size of a full grown donkey, sniffed the morning air and the sandwiches in the “Doubter’s” coat-tails. With hair bristling on his back, and with tail and ears erect the Ponto of the Orient came up behind us, and I could see what he wanted. As the “Doubter” spoke nothing but English, I passed the word in French to the rest of the party to keep his attention fixed on something, while I encouraged the dog. They dropped at once to the joke, and became very busy in examining the dome of a mosque that loomed up before them.
Ponto or Ishmael, or whatever his canine name was, came bravely and hungrily forward. A ham sandwich was evidently a luxury the brute had not enjoyed for many a day, and his appetite was now fairly aroused. I pointed to the coat-tails where were enshrined the savory sandwiches, and intimated by signs { 133}that it was all right, and the best dog might win. Ponto’s nose came within two inches of the prize, and took a fresh and satisfying sniff and then--
There was a ripping and tearing of broadcloth; the “Doubter” fell backwards from the effect of the shock, and then--there was more ripping.
Ponto was hungry and the Infidel Christian had brought him something to eat.
As the novelists say “all this passed quicker than I can write it.” other rip, and all was over.
I was so dumb-struck with astonishment that I couldn’t interfere till Ponto had detailed the “Doubter’s” coat. As he fled I raised a shout and a terrible outcry that made him run all the faster. Away he went like a pirate-ship in a fog, and in two minutes he was hull down among the sand hills.
“Stop him! stop him!” yelled the “Doubter,” but the brute couldn’t understand English, and evidently he was not a stop-watch dog.