Jules Verne by Dick Sand - a Captain at Fifteen

there," murmured Captain Hull, who had lost none
of this little scene.
    "But, sir," said the novice, "is it not very astonishing that a dog
should know the letters of the alphabet?"
    "No!" cried little Jack. "Mama has often told me the story of a dog
which knew how to read and write, and even play dominoes, like a real
schoolmaster!"
    "My dear child," replied Mrs. Weldon, smiling, "that dog, whose name
was Munito, was not a savant, as you suppose. If I may believe what has
been told me about it, Munito would not have been able to distinguish
the letters which served to compose the words. But its master, a clever
American, having remarked what fine hearing Munito had, applied himself
to cultivating that sense, and to draw from it some very curious
effects."
    "How did he set to work, Mrs. Weldon?" asked Dick Sand, whom the
history interested almost as much as little Jack.
    "In this way, my friend." When Munito was 'to appear' before the
public, letters similar to these were displayed on a table. On that
table the poodle walked about, waiting till a word was proposed,
whether in a loud voice or in a low voice. Only, one essential
condition was that its master should know the word."
    "And, in the absence of its master—" said the novice.
    "The dog could have done nothing," replied Mrs. Weldon, "and here is
the reason. The letters spread out on the table, Munito walked about
through this alphabet. When it arrived before the letter which it
should choose to form the word required, it stopped; but if it stopped
it was because it heard the noise—imperceptible to all others—of a
toothpick that the American snapped in his pocket. That noise was the
signal for Munito to take the letter and arrange it in suitable order."
    "And that was all the secret?" cried Dick Sand.
    "That was the whole secret," replied Mrs. Weldon. "It is very simple,
like all that is done in the matter of prestidigitation. In case of the
American's absence, Munito would be no longer Munito. I am, then,
astonished, his master not being there—if, indeed, the traveler,
Samuel Vernon, has ever been its master—that Dingo could have
recognized those two letters."
    "In fact," replied Captain Hull, "it is very astonishing. But, take
notice, there are only two letters in question here, two particular
letters, and not a word chosen by chance. After all, that dog which
rang at the door of a convent to take possession of the plate intended
for the poor passers-by, that other which commissioned at the same time
with one of its kind, to turn the spit for two days each, and which
refused to fill that office when its turn had not come, those two dogs,
I say, advanced farther than Dingo into that domain of intelligence
reserved for man. Besides, we are in the presence of an inscrutable
fact. Of all the letters of that alphabet, Dingo has only chosen these
two: S and V. The others it does not even seem to know. Therefore we
must conclude that, for a reason which escapes us, its attention has
been especially drawn to those two letters."
    "Ah! Captain Hull," replied the young novice, "if Dingo could speak!
Perhaps he would tell us what those two letters signify, and why it has
kept a tooth ready for our head cook."
    "And what a tooth!" replied Captain Hull, as Dingo, opening its mouth,
showed its formidable fangs.
*

Chapter VI - A Whale in Sight
*
    It will be remembered that this singular incident was made, more than
once, the subject of conversation held in the stern of the "Pilgrim"
between Mrs. Weldon, Captain Hull, and the young novice. The latter,
more particularly, experienced an instinctive mistrust with regard to
Negoro, whose conduct, meanwhile, merited no reproach.
    In the prow they talked of it also, but they did not draw from it the
same conclusions. There, among the ship's crew, Dingo passed merely for
a dog that knew how to read, and perhaps even write, better than more
than one sailor on board. As for talking, if he did not do it, it was
probably for good