He would scowl, and say "_Carrajo_," every time Marmion came near him, and lay his hand on his knife, as if it would have afforded him infinite pleasure could he have found an opportunity, to draw it across the dog's throat.

Frank had often noticed this, and consequently, when he one day came suddenly upon the dog, which was looking wistfully at a piece of meat Pierre was holding out to him, he was astonished, and not a little alarmed.

The Mexican scowled, as he always did when Frank came near him, and walked away, hiding the meat under his coat.
"Give it to me, Pierre," said Frank; "Marmion don't like to be fed by strangers." The Ranchero kept on as if he were not aware that he had been spoken to; and his conduct went a long way in confirming the new suspicions that had suddenly sprung up in Frank's mind.
"Uncle," said he, that evening, after supper, as he joined Mr.Winters and Archie, who had seated themselves on the porch to enjoy the cool breeze of evening, "how long do you intend to keep that new Ranchero ?" "As long as he will stay," replied Mr.Winters.

"He is one of the most faithful men I ever had, and he is quite as skillful in his business as either Carlos or Dick." "He is a mean man for all that," said Frank; "he tried to poison Marmion, to-day." "I don't blame him," said Archie; "a meaner, uglier dog I never saw"-- "Now, Archie," interrupted Frank, "I like the dog; and even if I didn't, I would keep him because he is a present." "How do you know that Pierre tried to poison him ?" asked Mr.Winters.
"Why, he was holding a piece of meat out to the dog, and when I came up he walked off in a great hurry," replied Frank, who, when he came to state the case, found that it was not quite so strong against the Ranchero as he had at first supposed.
"He may have done all that, and still be innocent of any desire to injure your favorite.

Marmion doesn't like him, and, no doubt, Pierre is trying his best to make friends with him.