Well, Billy, he's got a dog, and I've seen him sit and tell yarns before that dog that would make a cat squirm out of its skin, and that dog's taken 'em in and believed 'em.

One night, up at his old woman's, Bill told us a yarn by the side of which salt junk two voyages old would pass for spring chicken.

I watched the dog, to see how he would take it.

He listened to it from beginning to end with cocked ears, and never so much as blinked.

Every now and then he would look round with an expression of astonishment or delight that seemed to say: "Wonderful, isn't it!" "Dear me, just think of it!" "Did you ever!" "Well, if that don't beat everything!" He was a chuckle-headed dog; you could have told him anything.
"'It irritated me that Bill should have such an animal about him to encourage him, and when he had finished I said to him, "I wish you'd tell that yarn round at my quarters one evening." "'Why ?' said Bill.
"'Oh, it's just a fancy of mine,' I says.