ell mated.

The man was large, raw-boned and brindled, and he, also, walked in,
complacently and condescendingly.

The dog's ears had been cropped to match his tail, which in his
infancy had been reduced to a very few inches. His under jaw
protruded slightly--showing the trace of bull in his make-up.

That was the man all over. Besides he had a small, mean, roguish ear.

The dog was cross-eyed--"the only cross-eyed purp in the worl'"--as
his master had often proudly proclaimed, and the expression of his
face was uncanny.

Jud Carpenter's eastern-eye looked west, and his western-eye looked
east, and the rest of the paragraph above fitted him also.

The dog's pedigree, as his master had drawlingly proclaimed, was
"p'yart houn', p'yart bull, p'yart cur, p'yart terrier, an' the rest
of him--wal, jes' dog."

Reverse this and it will be Carpenter's: Just dog, with a sprinkling
of bull, cur, terrier, and hound.

Before Richard Travis could protest, the dog walked deliberately to
the fireplace and sprang savagely on the helpless old setter dreaming
on the rug. The older dog expostulated with terrific howls, while
Travis turned quickly and kicked off the intruder.

He stood the kicking as quietly as if it were part of the programme
in the last act of a melodrama in which he was the villain. He was
kicked entirely across the room and his head was driven violently
into the half-open door of the side-board. Here it came in contact
with one of Cook-mother's freshly baked hams, set aside for the
morrow's lunch. Without even a change of countenance--for, in truth,
it could not change--without the lifting even of a hair in surprise,
the brute seized the ham and settled right where he was, to lunch.
And he did it as complacently as he had walked in, and with a
satisfied growl which seemed to say that, so far as the villain was
concerned, the last act of the melodrama was ending to his entire
satisfaction.

Opening a side door, Travis seized him by the stump of a tail and one
hind leg--knowing his mouth was too full of ham to bite anything--and
threw him, still clutching the ham, bodily into the back yard.
Without changing the attitude he found himself in when he hit the
ground, the brindled dog went on with his luncheon.

The very cheek of it set Travis to laughing. He closed the door and
said to the man who had followed the dog in: "Carpenter, if I had
the nerve of that raw-boned fiend that follows you around, I'd soon
o