The dachshunds were a marvel, a nuisance, a bone of contention, an anomaly, an accident, and a farce.  They happened because somebody had once given the hostess a pair of them.  I do not believe she cared particularly for them; but she is good natured, and the ranch is large, and they are rather amusing.  At the time of my first visit the original pair had multiplied.  Gazing on that yardful of imbecile-looking canines, my admiration for Noah’s wisdom increased; he certainly needed no more than a pair to restock the earth.  Redmond claimed there were twenty-two of them, though nobody else pretended to have been able to disentangle them enough for a census.  They were all light brown in colour; and the aggregation reminded me of a rather disentangled bunch of angle-worms.  They lived in a large enclosure; and emerged therefrom only under supervision, for they considered chickens and young pigs their especial prey.  The Captain looked upon them with exasperated tolerance; Redmond with affection; the hostess, I think, with a good deal of the partisanship inspired not so much by liking as by the necessity of defending them against ridicule; and the rest of the world with amused expectation as to what they would do next.  The Captain was continually uttering half-serious threats as to the different kinds of sudden death he was going to inflict on the whole useless, bandylegged, snipe-nosed, waggle-eared——­

The best comment was offered last year by the chauffeur of the automobile.  After gazing on the phenomenon of their extraordinary build for some moments he remarked thoughtfully: 

“Those dogs have a mighty long wheel base!”

For some reason unknown two of the dachshunds have been elevated from the ranks, and have house privileges.  Their names are respectively Pete and Pup.  They hate each other, and have sensitive dispositions.  It took me just four years to learn to tell them apart.  I believe Pete has a slightly projecting short rib on his left side—­or is it Pup?  It was fatal to mistake.

“Hullo, Pup!” I would cry to one jovially.

“G—­r—­r—­r—!” would remark the dog, retiring under the sofa.  Thus I would know it was Pete.  The worst of it was that said Pete’s feelings were thereby lacerated so deeply that I was not forgiven all the rest of that day.

Beyond the dogs lay a noble enclosure so large that it would have been subdivided into building lots had it been anywhere else.  It was inhabited by all sorts of fowl, hundreds of them, of all varieties.  There were chickens, turkeys, geese, and a flock of ducks.  The Captain pointed out the Rouen ducks, almost exactly like the wild mallards.

“Those are my live decoys,” said he.

For the accommodation of this multitude were cities of nest houses, roost houses, and the like.  Huge structures elevated on poles swarmed with doves.  A duck pond even had been provided for its proper denizens.