United States or Norway ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
At this moment came the full blast of Sister's hunting cry from the west gate. She crossed the corral like a hunted coyote and buried her fangs in Sioux's shoulder just as Douglas on the Moose caught Buster's bridle. Sioux cast Judith off as if she were a rag and gave his full attention to Sister.
How Chatterer did wish that he had kept his tongue still! He ran to the very top of the tree, so frightened that his teeth chattered, and when he looked down and saw Buster's great mouth coming nearer and nearer, he nearly tumbled down with terror. The worst of it was there wasn't another tree near enough for him to jump to. He was in trouble this time, was Chatterer, sure enough!
"It certainly was that to those chumps," laughed Lanky. "Oh, how much we missed in not being on the spot! All Buster's faults for stumbling when he did, and letting go of the rope. Why under the sun didn't he hold on with a death grip?" demanded Tom Budd. "Hold on? Goodness gracious, that dog would have dragged him over every rock and stump for a mile. A pretty sight he'd have been after that.
Well, the cattle did begin to run but I jerked at Buster's bridle and managed to work him little by little away from the cattle, but he never stopped running till we got home and then I just tumbled off on the ground, somehow, and sat there crying till Uncle Dick came up.
When the clock struck eleven, strange to say, it was Buster's eyes which were still wide open. He was usually very sleepy, but to-night he was very curious. He wanted to see Santa trim that tree. So he winked and he blinked under his blankets, keeping real still and pretending to be asleep. And what do you think? Grand-daddy began to hang pieces of cheese on the tree!
He ran home with one, frisked back for another, and still another, until the very last one of Ruth's fine chocolates was added to the delicious heap on Buster's bed. "My, but that was hard work!" panted the fat, lazy, little fellow. "I wonder where I can hide 'em so I can have candy to nibble when I want it?" Down behind an old trunk was a pair of old boots that Mr. Giant had brought to the attic.
Vaguely now I began to appreciate the terrible significance of what he had discovered. "But the letter?" I persisted mechanically. "The writer of that was quite as shrewd a psychologist as bacteriologist," pursued Craig impressively. "He calculated the moral effect of the letter, then of Buster's illness, and finally of reaching Mrs. Blake herself." "You think Dr.
"Buster's eyes are not very good," said she, "but there is nothing the matter with his nose or with his ears. If Buster says that Farmer Brown is coming down the Lone Little Path, there is no doubt that he is, although he may be some distance away yet.
"I suppose Lanky doesn't want to take chances of a bad kick, and, considering how near the game is, you can hardly blame him. Perhaps he's had some experience with Buster's kicking before. There he goes now!" "Look at Lanky, sir, with his fingers in his ears!"
"How do you like the music?" said a voice in Buster's ear. He turned quickly. And he saw then that old dog Spot had followed the crowd too and was sitting in the doorway, where everyone had to walk around him. He seemed to be enjoying himself. And he kept thumping the floor with his tail as if he were trying to keep time with the tune.
Word Of The Day