| OCR Text |
Show 248 "What could be so bad about a dog book," asked Philip, "that it could get you excommunicated?" "Nothing, of course." it was the ex-monk's turn, and his eyes, like the coals of the fire, seemed to glow in the gathering dark. "There seemed to be something wrong with him," said Tia. "It was about breeding," said Molly, announcing her return. There was a note of comic disgust in her voice. "It was a sort of 'How To' book," said Jonathan, "for dog-lovers. My abbot found it obscene. My abbot, in the opinion of many, is a very small man." "Arabs hate dogs," said Philip. He wasn't sure why, wasn't sure why he said it; it had something to do with religion. Something to do with the animal's uncleanliness. But whatever the reason, it didn't prevent the dogs from following the trucks deep into the desert sands; didn't prevent them from coming, in the end, to the fire; didn't stop them from seeking out, when the men had finished serving themselves, whatever food and warmth would not be denied. "It looked like one of McAllister's hound dogs," said Julia, passing out the plates. "It was a Redbone," said Jonathan, glowing with special knowledge, "a fine breed not yet recognized by the A.K.C. Sensitive noses, excellent hunters." "McAllister's dogs are always chained up," said Philip, looking hard at his wife. Trying to put things in order, figure things out. "Remember?" "I'm just saying what I saw, sweetheart. That's all. Don't |
