With a grunt of satisfaction, Mose handed three pork chops to Lankyshanks, wired his own three to his broiler, stirred up the fire, then began slowly revolving the sputtering chops over the sparkling embers.

For fully five minutes Pant and Snowball, on the sand pile, watched in silence—a silence broken only by an occasional, half audible sigh from Snowball.

The chops were done to a brown finish when Pant suddenly fixed his gaze intently upon the big dipper which hung high in the heavens.

At that precise instant, Mose, uttering a groan not unlike that of a dying man, threw his broiler high in air, rolled over backward, turned two somersaults, then stumbling to his feet, ran wildly down the beach. Having dropped his chops on the coals, Lanky followed close behind. The expression of utter terror written on their faces was something to see and marvel at.

Pant still gazed skyward. Snowball gripped his arm, and whispered tensely:

“Lawdy, Mister! Look’a dere!”

Pant removed his gaze from the heavens and looked where Snowball pointed, at the bed of dying embers.

“What was it, Snowball?” he drawled. “Why! Where are our friends?”

“Dey done lef’,” whispered Snowball, still gripping his arm. “An’ so ’ud you. It’s a ha’nt, er a sign, er sumthin’. Blood. It was red, lak blood. All red. Dem fellers was red, an’ dem po’k chops, an’ dat sand, all red lak blood.”

“Pork chops,” said Pant slowly.

“Yes, sir, po’k chops an’ everything. I done heard dat Mose say it were a sign. Dey’s be a circus wreck, er sumthin’. Train wreck of dat dere circus.”

“Pork chops,” said Pant again thoughtfully. “Where did the pork chops go? Why! There is one broiler full on the wood pile. They must have left it there for you.”

“No, sir! Dat Mose done throwed it dere. Dat’s how scared he was.”

“They won’t be back, I guess; so you’d better just warm them up a bit and sit up to the table.”

Terror still lurked in Snowball’s eyes, but in his nostrils still lingered the savory smell of pork chops. The pork chops won out and he was soon feasting royally.

“Snowball,” said Pant when the feast was 

 Prev. P 20/98 next