Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1926-03-07

miles flung in their eyes. Then sud
denly before them the Motor Inn
appears out of the very ground itself
| the Motor Inn, where an open fire
| CLOVIS all night and where there Is
cream for breakfast. For all the wind
In the Salinas Valley seems unable to
blow away the COWS
Then the cars stop and the people
stumble in, to unpack cold creams and
horacic acid. to doze through whatever
of the day is left. Very little is left
| usually, for the dark comes swiftly
The sun disappears and 1t is night.
Martin turned the hotel register and
glanced for a moment down the list OF
| arrivals. Then he wrote Martin Bar
| berry, Orange County, and below, Mr.
G. T. Blood, Chicago.
| Two rooms" he ordered briefly
THE garage is being painted, Mr.
Barbery," the clerk explained. TN
| afraid the cars will have to remain il
the court tonight. It's quite safe
| There's no town nearer than Salinas
and the through traffic.
Goes through suggested Martin
| Exactly. / could give you rooms
on the court so YOU might keep ar
eye"-the clerk fpaused and looked
over the edge of the desk. There, al
the end of his stout steel chain, was
seated Gyp the Blood.
The clerk was nonplused. A dos
! was a dog, but the Motor Inns grape
fruit was shipped in special crate.
from the Barbery ranch. SO the clerk
at a loss, scratched his head anc
whistled.
It's special dog, Mr. Barbery?'
| Very special
"Well-behaved?" ventured the CLERK
feebly. Wont bite the legs off any
Of the chairs?"
He is, like Caesars wife. abov,
suspicion said Martin gravely
"Ah, Mr.. Barbery." said the man
ager affably, emerging from an inner
office and peering benevolently over
the desk. What have we here? Nice
little doggie-woggie?
| Gyp the Blood, thus admonished
! looked panied.
do we get the room?' asked
/ Martin.
But Of course you get the room, >
said the manager.
With the fall of dusk, Gyp the Blood
slept, lying low and level on his hote
bed in his hotel room. He had investi
gated the carpet thoroughly before re
firing. He had rooted angrily under
the radiator. the bureau, the bed
With paws against the sill he ha6
Ipeered out Of the window But
throughout these exhaustive peram
bulations he had dropped, for he was
very tired. And now he slept and
dreamed about Chicago; but not as
other dogs might dream of other
cities He did not dream Of bones. OF
| scuff1es with Airedales in areaways
He did not dream of dogs-he knew
no dogs. He dreamed of November
walks with Leon on the frosty epave
| ments along the lake: he dreamed OF
his green sweater for Spring and Fall
of his red sweater for Winter. Of a
an incapable old gentleman in a
steamer chair; he dreamed of glory
and a kingdom, of triumphs past and
still to come.
X X X
| A T midnight he stirred and woke
as was customary, for midnight
| was the ideal hour for a little light
indoor exercise, some scampering, q
few muffled growls. At home there
| was a bedroom slipper ready to be
! hunted from corner to corner. Here
there was no slipper but only silence
and strangeness and the dark And
| the window.
| Gyp the Blood approached the win
dow CALAMITY and poked his Icy nose
| beneath the shade. He gazed out a,
the parked cars in the quiet court
at the silver Of highroad where the
! through traffic was in the process Of