surrendered unconditionally.

"All right," he said. "Come in, then, if you want to. Come in! but for
goodness sake keep still when you are in."

He strode into the kitchen, leaving the door open. Job slunk after him,
and crouched with his muzzle across the sill, evidently not yet certain
that his victory was complete. He did not howl, however, and his late
adversary was thankful for the omission.

Brown bethought himself of the water in the wash boiler and, removing
the cover, tested it with his finger. It was steadily heating, but not
yet at the boiling point. He pushed the boiler aside, lifted a lid of
the range and inspected the fire. From behind him came a yelp, another,
a thump, and then a series of thumps and yelps. He turned and saw Job in
the center of the floor apparently having a fit.

The moment his back was turned, the pup had sneaked into the kitchen.
It was not a large kitchen, and Job was distinctly a large dog. Also,
he was suspicious of further assaults with the fire shovel and had
endeavored to find a hiding place under the table. In crawling beneath
this article of furniture he had knocked off a sheet of the fly paper.
This had fallen "butter side down" upon his back, and stuck fast. He
reached aft to pull it loose with his teeth and had encountered a
second sheet laid on a chair. This had stuck to his neck. Job was an
apprehensive animal by nature and as the result of experience, and his
nerves were easily unstrung. He forgot the shovel, forgot the human whom
he had been fearfully trying to propitiate, forgot everything except the
dreadful objects which clung to him and pulled his hair. He rolled from
beneath the table, a shrieking, kicking, snapping cyclone. And that