k!

Yesterday, Lieutenant Golden came in to luncheon, and when we went in
the dining room I saw at once that things were wrong, very wrong. A
polished table is an unknown luxury down here, but fresh table linen we
do endeavor to have. But the cloth on the table yesterday was a sight
to behold, with big spots of dirt all along one side and dirt on top.
Findlay came in the room just as I reached the table, and I said,
"Findlay, what has happened here?" He gave one look at the cloth where
I pointed, and then striking his knuckles together, almost sobbed out,
"Dot tamn dog, mum!" Faye and Lieutenant Golden quickly left the room
to avoid hearing any more remarks of that kind, for it was really very
dreadful in Findlay to use such language. This left me alone, of course,
to pacify the cook, which I found no easy task. Old Findlay had pickled
a choice buffalo tongue with much care and secrecy, and had served it
for luncheon yesterday as a great surprise and treat. There was the
platter on the table, but there could be no doubt of its having been
licked clean. Not one tiny piece of tongue could be seen any place.

The window was far up, and in vain did I try to convince everyone that
a strange dog had come in and stolen the meat, that Hal was quite too
small to have reached so far; but Findlay only looked cross and Faye
looked hungry, so I gave that up. Before night, however, there was
trouble and a very sick puppy in the house, and once again I thought he
would die. And every few minutes that disagreeable old cook would
come in and ask about the dog, and say he was afraid he could not get
well--always with a grin on his face that was exasperating. Finally,
I told him that if he had served only part of the tongue, as he should
have done, the dog would not have been so ill, and we could have had
some of it. That settled the matter--he did not come in again. Findlay
has served several enlistments, and is regarded as an old soldier, and
once upon a time he was cook for the colonel of the regiment, therefore
he sometimes forgets himself and becomes aggressive. I do not wonder
that Hal dislikes him.

And Hal dislikes Indians, too, and will often hear their low mumbling
and give little growls before I dream that one is near. They have a
disagreeable way of coming to the windows and staring in. Sometimes
before you have heard a sound you will be conscious of an uncomfortable
feeling, and looking around you will discover five or six