THE MURDEROUS CAT 223 



Thrushes or Flycatchers if I can help it, no mat- 

 ter whose cat it is." 



** Maybe yo' can imagine what would happen to 

 a Duck that offered to pull a fish-bone out'n a 

 Fox's throat, can't yoT' 



**Yes," retorted Shan, *'but it would depend on 

 the Fox. There's one species of Duck living near 

 the shores of the North Sea that regularly lives in 

 a Fox's hole. So I'll chance it." 



In spite of his bold assurance, it was with a dis- 

 tinct sense of doubt that Shan, next day, pushed 

 his way through the massed and tangled growth 

 of interlocking laurel bushes, and, following his 

 uncle's instructions, came to the yellow house in 

 the midst of the chestnut trees. Sitting outside 

 the house, writing at a table made of a flattened 

 log resting on two crotched branches driven into 

 the ground, sat a tall man with a shock of black 

 hair, turning gray. 



''Good morning, my boy," he said, in clear, 

 precise English, quite unlike the drawling speech 

 of North Carolina. 



''Morning," said Shan. 



*'Say 'sir' when you speak to some one older 

 than yourself," the stranger corrected sharply; 

 ' ' and don 't slouch ! ' ' 



