id
temptation. But one of the men pulled a shotgun out of the car and the
dog bowed his head between his paws in a sort of shame. That was the
symbol of his helplessness. That was what stood between his fangs and
those men's throats.

He watched them strip the car of its baggage. They unstrapped the tent
and dragged it off to the depths of a thicket beyond. Valises,
telescopes, all the cheap pageantry of their trade, went the same way.
They were staking everything on the prize that had walked into their
hands that morning, coming like a little prince from that big white
house that sat amidst its trees on the hill surrounded by broad fields
rich with corn and tobacco and cotton.

At last the man who had driven the car picked up the gun. The woman, one
arm full of bundles, took the boy by the hand. He drew back, looking up
at her and holding to his hat. She spoke to him low and huskily, her
face white. Then, as he perforce went with her, Frank heard him crying
in the woods, heard the convulsive catches of his voice, saw the
twinkle, through the trees, of white socks above reluctant, sandalled
feet.

Eyes sullen and fierce, he rose and followed. Down the hill, where a
creek gurgled, the man with the gun turned. He was hard-jawed,
pale-eyed. The boy and woman stopped.

"Shut up!" he said.

The crying stopped; the convulsive sobs went on.

"Shut up!"

A few steps the dog rushed forward, hair risen all the way down his
back. Then he sank down on the ground. For the woman had dropped the
bundles and was on her knees before the boy, her arm about his heaving
shoulders. Frank saw the whiteness of her face as she looked up at the
man above her. Her voice rang through the woods, husky and shrill, but
suppressed.

"He can't help it, Joe!"

The crying had stopped now. But the sturdy little chest was still rising
and falling as the boy stood looking up with quivering face at the man.
The woman picked up her bundles, rose, and took his hand once more.
Still holding to his hat he went with her, in silence now, taking two
little trotting steps to one of hers.

They spent the night in the woods, out of hearing of any chance
passer-by along the road. Carefully hidden in the underbrush old Frank
watched them. Only once did he leave them. Then he went to the car,
found a big chunk of side-meat wrapped in a paper under the back seat,
made his meal off his enemies, and came guardedly back, licking his
chops. They were gone agai