Jim: The Story of a Backwoods Police Dog

The book agent, his confidence apparently restored by the attitude of Blackstock, now let loose a torrent of eloquence to explain how glad he would be to tell all he knew, and how sorry he was that he knew nothing, having merely had a brief conversation with poor Mr. Sanderson on the morning of the previous day.

“Ye’ll hev lots o’ time to tell us all that when we’re askin’ ye,” answered Blackstock. “Now, take my advice an’ keep yer mouth shet.”

As Blackstock was speaking, Jim slipped in alongside the prisoner and rubbed against him with a friendly wag of the tail as if to say:

“Sorry to see you in such a hole, old chap.”

Some of the men laughed, and one who was more or less a friend of Hawker’s, remarked sarcastically:

“Jim don’t seem quite so discriminatin’ as usual, Tug.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” replied the Deputy drily, noting the dog’s attitude with evident interest. “Time will show. Ye must remember a man ain’t necessarily a murderer jest because he wears black side-lights an’ tries to sell ye a book that ain’t no good.”