o was extremely busy burying his hunger.

"What did he ever catch!" indignantly cried Humble, dropping his fork.
"You saw him catch that gray wolf over near the timber, and you can't deny
it, neither!"

"By George, he did!" exclaimed Blake seriously. "You're right this time,
Humble, he did. But he let go awful sudden. Besides, that gray wolf
you're talking about was a coyote, and he would have died of old age in
another week if you hadn't shot him to save the dog. And, what's more, I
never saw him chase anything since, not even rabbits."

"He caught my boot one night," remarked Charley Bailey, reflectively,
"right plumb on his near eye. Oh, he's a catcher, all right."

"He's so good he ought to be stuffed, then he could sit without having
to move around catching boots and things," said Jim. "Why don't you have
him stuffed, Humble?"

"Oh, yore a whole lot smart, now ain't you?" blazed the persecuted
puncher, glaring at his tormentors.

"He can't catch his tail, Silent," offered Bud. "I once saw him trying
to do it for ten minutes--he looked like a pinwheel what we used to have
when we were kids. Missed it every time, and all he got was a cheap drunk."

Humble said a few things which came out so fast that they jammed up, and
he left the room to hunt for his dog.

"Any particular reason why you call him Lightning, or is it just irony?"
asked The Orphan as he helped himself to the beef for the third time. "I
never heard that name used before."

"Oh, it ain't irony at all!" hastily denied the foreman. "That's a real
good name, fits him all right," he assured. Then he explained: "You see,
lightning don't hit twice in the same place, and neither can the dog when
he scratches himself. And, besides, he can dodge awful quick. You have
to figure which way he'll jump when you want him to catch anything."

"But you don't have to remember his name at all, Stranger," interposed
Silent, who was not at all silent. "Any handle will do, if you only yells.
Every time anybody yells he makes a crow line for the plain and howls at
every jump. He's got a regular, shore enough trail worn where he makes his
get-away."

Silence descended over the table, and for a quarter of an hour only the
click of eating utensils could be heard. At the end of that time Blake
pushed back his chair and arose. He glanced around the table and then
spoke very distinctly: "Well, Orphan, get acquainted with your outfit." A
head or two raised at the name, b