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"
It
’
s
not
mine
,
"
she
said
.
"
It
belongs
to
the
captain
now
.
Or
all
of
you
,
perhaps
.
A
sort
of
mascot
.
His
name
is
Goodboy
Bindle
Featherstone
.
"
Goodboy
Bindle
Featherstone
bore
up
stoically
under
the
weight
of
the
name
,
and
sniffed
a
table
leg
.
"
He
looks
more
like
my
brother
Errol
,
"
said
Nobby
,
playing
the
cheeky
chirpy
lovable
city
sparrow
card
for
all
it
was
worth
.
"
Got
the
same
pointed
nose
,
excuse
me
for
saying
so
,
milady
.
"
Vimes
looked
at
the
creature
,
which
was
investigating
its
new
environment
,
and
knew
that
it
was
now
,
irrevocably
,
an
Errol
.
The
little
dragon
took
an
experimental
bite
out
of
the
table
,
chewed
it
for
a
few
seconds
,
spat
it
out
,
curled
up
and
went
to
sleep
.
"
He
ain
’
t
going
to
set
fire
to
anything
,
is
he
?
"
said
the
sergeant
anxiously
.
"
I
don
’
t
think
so
.
He
doesn
’
t
seem
to
have
worked
out
what
his
flame
ducts
are
for
yet
,
"
said
Lady
Ramkin
.
"
You
can
’
t
teach
him
anything
about
relaxing
,
though
,
"
said
Vimes
.
"
Anyway
,
men
.
.
.
"
"
Oook
.
"
"
I
wasn
’
t
talking
to
you
,
sir
.
What
’
s
this
doing
here
?
"
