he
Captain for the fiftieth time in the month. "I won't have them on the
ranch!"

That was seven years ago. They are still there--they and numerous
descendants.[G]

CHAPTER VII

DINNER

We washed up and came down stairs. All at once it proved to be drowsy
time. The dark had fallen and the lamps were lit. A new fire crackled in
the fireplace, anticipating the chill that was already descending.
Carrie played the piano in the other room. The General snorted over
something in his city paper. Mrs. Kitty had disappeared on household
business. Pete and Pup, having been mistaken one for the other by some
innocent bystander, gloomed and glowered under chairs.

Both the Captain and myself made some sort of a pretence of reading the
papers. It was only a pretence. The grateful warmth, the soothing
crackling of the fire, the distant music--and, possibly, our state of
starvation--lulled us to a half doze. From this we were aroused by an
announcement of dinner.

We had soup and various affairs of that sort; and there was brought on a
huge and baronial roast, from which the Captain promptly proceeded to
slice generous allowances. With it came vegetables. They were all cooked
in cream; not milk, but rich top cream thick enough to cut with a knife.
I began to see why all the house servants were plump. Also there were
jellies, and little fat hot rolls, and strange pickled products of the
soil. I was good and hungry; and I ate thereof.

The plates were removed. I settled back with a sigh of repletion----

The door opened to admit the waitress bearing a huge platter on which
reposed, side by side, five ducks. That meant a whole one apiece! To my
feeble protest the family turned indignantly.

"Of course you must eat your duck!" Mrs. Kitty settled the whole
question at last.

So I ate my duck. It was a very good duck; as indeed it should have
been, for it was fattened on Egyptian corn, hung the exact number of
days, and cooked by Charley. It had a little spout of celery down which
I could pour the abundant juice from its inside; and it was flanked
right and left respectively by a piece of lemon liberally sprinkled with
red pepper and sundry crisp slabs of fried hominy. Every night of the
shooting season each member of the household had "his duck." Later I was
shown the screened room wherein hung the game, each dated by a little
tag.

After I had made way with most of my duck, and other things, and had had
my coffee, a