hated tlie noises of the yard, particularly the 

 crowing of our big buff cochin rooster and the 

 screaming of the guineas. This was one of the 

 swamp-fears that he had brought with him and 

 could not outlive. It haunted him. If he had a 

 conscience, its only warnings were of coming 

 noises great and terrible. 



But Mux had no conscience, unless it was one 

 that troubled him only when he was out of mis- 

 chief. His face was never so long and so solemn 

 as when I had caught him in some questionable 

 act or spoiled some wayward plan. 



Mux, however, was possessed by a much stub- 

 borner spirit than this interesting mischief-devil. 

 Upon one point he was positively demented— 

 the only four-footed maniac I ever knew. He 

 had gone crazy on the subject of dirt, mad to 

 wash things, especially his victuals. 



He was not particular about what he ate ; al- 

 most anything that could be swallowed would 

 do, provided that it could be washed, and 

 washed by himself, after his own approved 

 fashion. 



If I gave him half of my apple, he would 

 squat down by his wash-tub and begin to hunt 

 8 [113] 



