HIS MASTER’S VOICE
“I do believe that that dog has something of the terrier in him. Really, at least a few drops of sly hunter’s blood, those crafty abilities to lead an armed man on a horse toward animals bigger and stronger than himself. And hold him, hold him at bay, deafen him with barking, perplex him with feint and subterfuge, phoney attacks, phoney courage. Snapping and leaping and all the while counting the moments until the horse broaches the thickets, and his master raises his gun and the beast falls at the feet of the little dog.
“To conquer, you need the help of a man. And for that reason, you’ve ceased to be an animal yourself. The instincts imprinted in your blood summon forth the picture of a man, who follows in your tracks. A man in a green coat — a hunter’s jacket, the c
