he's as gritty as -- why, yes, I do, I'll call him General
Jackson. C'mon here, General."

The dog still wavered slightly. He stood intently
regarding Gordon. "Here, here, General Jackson."
After another long scrutiny he walked slowly up to
Gordon, raised his head toward the man's countenance.
Gordon Makimmon was delighted.
"That's a smart dog!" he exclaimed; "smarter'n
half the people I know. He's got to have something
to eat. Lettice, will you tell Mrs. Caley to
give General something to eat, and nothing's too
good for him, either."

Lettice walked to the door of the kitchen and
transmitted Gordon's request to the invisible Mrs.
Caley. The latter appeared after a moment and
stood gazing somberly at the man and dog. She
was a tall, ungainly woman, with a flat, sexless body
and a deeply-lined face almost the color of her own
salt-raised bread. "This is General Jackson,"
Gordon explained out of the settling dark; "he'd
thank you for a panful of supper. Come on, General,
come on in the kitchen. No, Mrs. Caley won't
bite you; she'll give us something to eat."

The room next to the kitchen, that had been
Clare's, had been stripped of its furnishing, and a
glistening yellow pine table set in the middle, with
six painted wood chairs. The table was perpetually
spread on a fringed red or blue cloth; the

[[162]]

p161 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p162w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p163

v?