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I shouted "Garin!" He stopped, raced
back, and came up to ask my will.
Then I saw that my soldier friend was right, and that that dog
knew and was worth more than a man. At the end of the ride I gave
an order which Vixen knew and hated: "Go away and get washed!" I
said. Garin understood some part of it, and Vixen interpreted the
rest, and the two trotted off together soberly. When I went to
the back verandah Vixen had been washed snowy-white, and was very
proud of herself, but the dog-boy would not touch Garm on any
account unless I stood by. So I waited while he was being
scrubbed, and Garm, with the soap creaming on the top of his
broad head, looked at me to make sure that this was what I
expected him to endure. He knew perfectly that the dog-boy was
only obeying orders.
"Another time," I said to the dog-boy, "you will wash the great
dog with Vixen when I send them home."
"Does he know?" said the dog-boy, who understood the ways of
dogs.
"Garm," I said, "another time you will be washed with Vixen.


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