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guys back for me. I would watch them going down the trail. Then I would watch them coming back. After that I was free. I would be back in time for supper most times, but one time I spent the night in the woods. That was the greatest night of my life. You are the only one I would tell this to, Bax. With the other guys I say it was the night I screwed some bitch, and sometimes it is a bitch I really screwed and sometimes just one I wanted to. But I have told you the truth.
    Please keep this. Or else burn it.
    Sheldon Hawes

Number 7
B AX T AKES A B EATING

    Dear George:

    Why does Bax torment me with his letters? I can hear it even as I write. You know the answer, and know equally that I might ask questions of my own.
    Last night I had the strangest dream of my life. Tell poor Millie, please. I feel quite certain that you have no interest in dreams; but Millie may, and if she does she deserves to hear about this one.
    Before I begin, I ought to say something about Winkle. (I intend my Winkle, not Mother's.) Yesterday I implied--or think I did--that Winkle was not truly a fox, although that was what I had first thought her. My implication was based upon glimpses I had gotten of her as she tried to enter the house by various windows. At the time I hopedshe would tire and go to another house, where she might find food. I knew, however, that she would find her way inside eventually if she persisted. The house is large and old. There are many windows, odd corners, and nooks, and Winkle is an expert climber.
    Now that I know her better, I think her midway between a fox and a monkey. She is red, with glossy black markings and a white tip to her tail. Her green eyes seem to me rather feline; but there are fingers behind her tiny claws, and her delicate paws are more monkeylike than doglike. She has long canines, but both foxes and monkeys have those, I believe. She seems to me, in short, a rare animal of some kind, most probably from Africa or Asia.
    In my dream I lay asleep until Winkle came and woke me, wanting me to look out the window. I rose readily enough, followed her to a window, and looked out. The lawn behind the house was bathed in moonlight, and the oddest possible figures were dancing in a ring there. Some were grotesque, some quite attractive.
    Most impressive was a tall, broad-shouldered man with a full beard. He was crowned like a king, and his crown gleamed in the moonlight. He danced stiffly, but with great dignity, keeping time (as I saw) to music I could not hear. Beside him danced a Junoesque woman nearly as tall as he. She wore a long gown and many jewels, and there was something beautiful and mysterious in her dance; I longed to see her more closely, and to follow the intricacies of it. With them danced a lean, capering fellow who seemed all arms and legs, a dwarf with the face of an ape, a half-naked girl with flying hair, and others I find I cannot recall distinctly.
    I do remember this, however. The nearly naked girl seemed to be aware that I was watching them. She met my eyes once, and danced so wildly afterward that it seemed she might lose the animal skin that served her for a dress.
    Having no food, I had no breakfast to bother about. I drank water from the tap in the bathroom, washed, and shaved. Returning to the living room to dress, I found three dead birds on the hearth--birds I know were not there when I woke. Two were pigeons, and the third a quail. I hurried out to collect wood and discovered that a ring of mushrooms had sprouted on my lawn.
    And that is really all I have to say, George. I cleaned and gutted the birds as well as I could, removed some skin, and stewed them with dandelion greens in an old pot I discovered in one of the kitchen cabinets.
    Winkle appeared when my stew was nearly ready. She was clearly apprehensive at first, but I spoke gently to her and offered her a bone with a good deal of meat on it. Soon she was sitting beside me, eager for her share of the stew.
    Now she watches as