"Not before October," I answered.
"And not until he can get a good company," said Mrs. Estell, standing in front of us. "I have enough interest in the house to demand that much. Oh, there comes father with the hounds and I'm not ready yet."
She ran away, and though the sun was in the window, the room was darker now, and a shadow seemed to lie where she had stood. We heard the Senator's horn and the impatient cry of the hounds.
"I'd rather hunt a bear than a fox," said the young man. "I went with a party of fellows down in the canebrake last fall and a bear killed four dogs. Just grabbed 'em up like this (hugging himself) and crushed 'em. Just broke their bones. Just grabbed 'em up this way and mashed 'em. Didn't look like it was any trouble at all. Just—just squeezed the life out of 'em. I had—I had a dog named Ring—great big dog—and he grabbed him up this way, the bear did, and old Ring just gave one howl and that was the end of it. Bear didn't appear to mind it. Just seemed like he was enjoying himself, but we hadn't agreed to keep him in all the dogs he wanted to kill, so we shot him."
"You did?" said the old lady, smirking at him. "Do tell. And you'd rather stand there and see him kill those poor dogs than to chase a fox."
"Oh, I—I don't mean that I like to see the dogs killed, Mrs. Braxon, I mean I—"
"Would rather see a bear with his arms full of poor dogs than to chase a fox. Yes, I know what you mean."
In came the Senator. He bowed to the ladies, cried "Ha!" to the young man and seized my hand as if a year had elapsed since we parted. "Belford, I've got a horse for you that can clear any fence in the State."
"With me on his back?" I asked.
"Yes, I hope so. You can try, you know, and if you can't keep your seat why you must fall as easily as you can. Sister Patsey, you look as bright as a dollar."