ing General Jackson at his heels, he picked the dog
up and departed for the stable, where he saw Sim
Caley putting the horse into the buggy.

"I thought I'd go over to the farm beyond the
priest's," he answered Gordon's query; "Tol'able's
an awful slack hand with cattle."

"Your wife ought to run that place; she'd walk
those steers around on a snake fence."

Simeon Caley preserved a diplomatic silence.
He, too, was long and lean. He had eyes of the
most innocent and tender blue imaginable in a
countenance seamed and scarred by protracted debauch,
disease, abuse. It was said of him that if
all the liquor he had consumed were turned loose on
the mountain it would sweep Greenstream village to
the farther end of the valley.

His voice, like his eyes, was gentle. "Come right
along, Gord; there's some draining you ought to
see to. It's a nice drive, anyways." Gordon took
the reins, slapping them on the rough, sturdy back
of the horse, and they started up the precarious track
to the road. General Jackson's head hung panting,
wild-eyed, from the side of the vehicle.

[[174]]

p173 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p174w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p175

v?