is after-supper cigarette, he said:

"Maybe they ain't no valley of the moon. An' if they ain't, what of it?
We could keep on this way forever. I don't ask nothing better."

"There is a valley of the moon," Saxon answered soberly. "And we are
going to find it. We've got to. Why Billy, it would never do, never to
settle down. There would be no little Hazels and little Hatties, nor
little... Billies--"

"Nor little Saxons," Billy interjected.

"Nor little Possums," she hurried on, nodding her head and reaching out
a caressing hand to where the fox terrier was ecstatically gnawing
a deer-rib. A vicious snarl and a wicked snap that barely missed her
fingers were her reward.

"Possum!" she cried in sharp reproof, again extending her hand.

"Don't," Billy warned. "He can't help it, and he's likely to get you
next time."

Even more compelling was the menacing threat that Possum growled, his
jaws close-guarding the bone, eyes blazing insanely, the hair rising
stiffly on his neck.

"It's a good dog that sticks up for its bone," Billy championed. "I
wouldn't care to own one that didn't."

"But it's my Possum," Saxon protested. "And he loves me. Besides, he
must love me more than an old bone. And he must mind me.--Here, you,
Possum, give me that bone! Give me that bone, sir!"

Her hand went out gingerly, and the growl rose in volume and key till it
culminated in a snap.

"I tell you it's instinct," Billy repeated. "He does love you, but he
just can't help doin' it."

"He's got a right to defend his bones from strangers but not from his
mother," Saxon argued. "I shall make him give up that bone to me."

"Fox terriers is awful highstrung, Saxon. You'll likely get him
hysterical."

But she was obstinately set in her purpose. She picked up a short stick
of firewood.

"Now, sir, give me that bone."

She threatened with the stick, and the dog's growling became ferocious.
Again he snapped, then crouched back over his bone. Saxon raised the
stick as if to strike him, and he suddenly abandoned the bone, rolled
over on his back at her feet, four legs in the air, his ears lying
meekly back, his eyes swimming and eloquent with submission and appeal.

"My God!" Billy breathed in solemn awe. "Look at it!--presenting his
solar plexus to you, his vitals an' his life, all defense down, as much
as sayin': 'Here I am. Stamp on me. Kick the life outa me.' I love you,
I am your slave, but I just can't help defendin' my bone. My i