"Bellona," I said.

"He! he!" he tittered. "What a funny name."

I gritted my teeth, for his mirth put them on edge, and snapped out
between them, "She was the wife of Mars, you know."

Then the light of the full moon began to suffuse his face, until he
exploded with: "That was my other dog. Well, I guess she's a widow
now. Oh! Ho! ho! E! he! he! Ho!" he whooped after me, and I turned
and fled swiftly over the hill.

The week passed by, and on Saturday evening I said to him, "You go
away Monday, don't you?"

He nodded his head and grinned.

"Then you won't have another chance to get a mess of those trout you
just 'dote' on."

But he did not notice the sneer. "Oh, I don't know," he chuckled.
"I'm going up to-morrow to try pretty hard."

Thus was assurance made doubly sure, and I went back to my house
hugging myself with rapture.

Early next morning I saw him go by with a dip-net and gunnysack, and
Bellona trotting at his heels. I knew where he was bound, and cut
out by the back pasture and climbed through the underbrush to the
top of the mountain. Keeping carefully out of sight, I followed the