There
were mutters incredulous, ironic, from the awaiting group of men; envy was
perceptible, bitterness "... for a dog. Two hundred! Old Pompey hollered
out of the dirt."

"There he is, Gord," the driver proclaimed; "and fetching that dog
palace'll cost you seventy-five cents." The box was shifted to the
platform; and, while Gordon unfastened the slide, the men gathered in a
curious, mocking circle.

The slide was raised, the box sharply tilted, and a grotesquely clumsy and
grave young dog slid out. There was a hoarse uproar of gibing laughter,
backs and knees were slapped, heavy feet stamped. The dog stood puzzled by
the tumult: he had a long, square, shaggy head, the color of ripe wheat;
clear, dark eyes and powerful jaw; his body was narrow, covered with
straight, wiry black hair; a short tail was half raised, tentative; and
his wheat colored legs were ludicrously, inappropriately, long and
heavy.

He stood patiently awaiting, evidently, some familiar note, some
reassuring command, in that unintelligible human clamor. Gordon regarded
him through half-closed, indifferent eyes. "Here, doggy," a hoarse,
persuasive voice called; a hand was stretched out to him. But, as he
reached it, "Two hundred dollars!" the voice exclaimed, and the hand gave
the animal a quick, unexpected thrust. The dog sprawled back, and fell on
the point of his shoulder. He rose swiftly to his feet without a whimper,
standing once more at a loss in the midst of the inexplicable animosity.
He watched them all intently, with wrinkles in his serious young brow.
When, from behind, another hand thrust him sharply upon his jaw, he rose
as quickly as possible, swaying a little upon the inappropriate legs.
Another suddenly knocked his hind legs from under him, and he sat heavily
upon his haunches. The laughter ran renewed about the circle.

The sum of money that had been expended upon that single dog--a dog even
that could neither hunt rabbits nor herd sheep--had, it appeared,
engendered a bitter animosity, a personal spite, in the hearts of the men
on the store platform. They were men to whom two hundred dollars was the
symbol of arduous months of toil, endless days of precariously rewarded
labor with the stubborn, inimical forces of nature, with swamp and rock
and thicket. Two hundred dollars! It was the price of a roof, of health,
of life itself.

A hard palm swung upon the dog's ribs, and, in instant response, he fell
upon his side. He rose mor