they sang for the master and mistress in the pillared mansion on the
hill. They passed the stables and paused to watch a dozen colts playing
in the inclosure. Beyond the stable under the shadows of great oaks
was the dog kennel. A pack of fox hounds rushed to the gate with loud
welcome to their young master. He stooped to stroke each head and call
each dog's name. A wagging tail responded briskly to every greeting. In
another division of the kennel romped a dozen bird-dogs, pointers and
setters. The puppies were nearly grown and eager for the fields. They
climbed over Custis in yelping puppy joy that refused all rebuffs.

Phil looked in vain for the bloodhounds. He was afraid to ask about them
lest he offend his host. Custis had never seen a bloodhound and could
not guess the question back of his schoolmate's silence.

Sam entered the inclosure with breakfast for the dogs.

Phil couldn't keep his eyes off the sunlit, ebony face. His smile was
contagious. His voice was music.

The Westerner couldn't resist the temptation to draw him out.

"You were certainly dressed up last night, Sam!"

"Yer lak dat suit I had on, sah?"

"It was a great combination."

"Yassah, dat's me, sah," the negro laughed. "I'se a great
combination--yassah!"