Theodore Goodridge Roberts

“ Smoke went up from the chimney of the northeastern wing. Gray barns with red doors, sheds squatting slightly awry, a partially demolished stack of straw and a great pile of round timber clustered within fences of gray cedar rails to the southwest ward and slightly in rear of the house. I glimpsed red and white cattle and gray sheep in the yards. The big clearing itself, which must have contained fully sixty acres, showed areas of reviving green, patches of rusty buckwheat stubble and bleached oat stubble and expanses of newly-turned brown furrows, but not a sign of human life. ”

“ He plucked at his whiskers as he listened, and nodded and wagged his head.
"Stack's the best of them—but that's not saying a great deal," he said. "Stack's honest, I believe—and not devoid of courage—but they are a low breed. This old fellow Ruben has not a single admirable quality, and is less than half-witted into the bargain."
I regarded him thoughtfully, wondering if he knew of the scorn and hate in which apparently his own family was held. He evidently read something of my thought.
"We are not popular with our neighbors, as you may have gathered from Stack Glashner," he said. ”

“ I had not gone a quarter of the distance before I was sighted by three dogs who issued from an open door of one of the stables. Two of them came toward me at full speed and the third advanced at a dignified walk. The larger of the running dogs was black, the smaller black and white. ”