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208
Animal Heroes
·
Ernest Thompson Seton
147
SNAP
THE
STORY
OF
A
BULL-TERRIER
I
It
was
dusk
on
Hallowe'en
when
first
I
saw
him.
Early
in
the
morning
I
had
received
a
telegram
from
my
college
chum
Jack:
"Lest
we
forget.
Am
sending
you
a
remarkable
pup.
Be
polite
to
him;
it's
safer."
It
would
have
been
just
like
Jack
to
have
sent
an
infernal
machine
or
a
Skunk
rampant
and
called
it
a
pup,
so
I
awaited
the
hamper
with
curiosity.
When
it
arrived
I
saw
it
was
marked
"Dangerous,"
and
there
came
from
within
a
high-pitched
snarl
at
every
slight
provocation.
On
peering
through
the
wire
netting
I
saw
it
was
not
a
baby
Tiger
but
a
small
white
Bull-terrier.
He
snapped
at
me
and
at
any
one
or
anything
that
seemed
too
abrupt
or
too
near
for
proper
respect,
and
his
snarling
growl
was
unpleasantly
frequent.
Dogs
have
two
growls:
one
deep-rumbled,
and
chesty;
that
is
polite
warning--the
retort
courteous;
the
other
mouthy
and
much
higher
in
pitch:
this
is
the
last
word
before
actual
onslaught.
The
Terrier's
growls
were
all
of
the
latter
kind.
I
was
a
dog-man
and
thought
I
knew
all
about
Dogs,
so,
dismissing
the
porter,
I
got
out
my
all-round
jackknife--toothpick--nailhammer-hatchet-toolbox-fire-shovel,
a
specialty
of
our
firm,
and
lifted
the
netting.
Oh,
yes,
I
knew
all
about
Dogs.
The
little
fury
had
been
growling
out
a
whole-souled
growl
for
every
tap
of
the
tool,
and
when
I
turned
the
box
on
its
side,
he
made
a
dash
straight
for
my
legs.
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