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Updated: June 8, 2025
Sir, for disturbing of you now," said the dogman, with the rain upon his tarred coat shining, in a little course of drainage from his great brown beard, "my orders wur to lay this in your own hand, and seek answer to-morrow by dinner-time, if may be." "Master Jordas, you shall have it, if it can be. Do you know anybody who can promise more than that?"
The shrieks of the awakened beast rang for a block around. "If that's your dog," said Jim, when they were on the street again, "what's to hinder you from running that habeas corpus you've got around his neck over a limb and walking off and forgetting him?" "I'd never dare to," said the dogman, awed at the bold proposition. "He sleeps in the bed, I sleep on a lounge.
Jordas, you must have no wrinkles until you are married." While Mrs. Carnaby spoke so kindly, the dogman took his fingers off their numeral scale, and looked at her. By nature the two were first cousins, of half blood; by law and custom, and education, and vital institution, they were sundered more widely than black and white. But, for all that, the dogman loved the lady, at a faithful distance.
Hard by was a café. 'Tis ever so in the big city. They sat at a table, and the bloated monster yelped and scrambled at the end of his leash to get at the café cat. "Whiskey," said Jim to the waiter. "Make it two," said the dogman. "You're fatter," said Jim, "and you look subjugated. I don't know about the East agreeing with you. All the boys asked me to hunt you up when I started.
Philippa Yordas went through the whole of her orders again most clearly, and at every one of them the dogman nodded his large head distinctly, and counted the nods on his fingers to make sure; for this part is gifted with high mathematics. And the numbers stick fast like pegs driven into clay. "Poor Jordas! Philippa, you are working him too hard. You have made great wrinkles in his forehead.
Something mushy and heavily soft like raised dough leaned against Jim's leg and chewed his trousers with a yeasty growl. "Get to work," said Jim, "and explain this yard-wide hydrophobia yearling you've throwed your lasso over. Are you the pound-master of this burg? Do you call that a dog or what?" "I need a drink," said the dogman, dejected at the reminder of his old dog of the sea. "Come on."
The Master, a minute earlier, had turned out of the blankets for his painfully icy morning plunge in the lakelet. The fanfare of barking, a quarter-mile below, changed his intent. A true dogman knows his dog's bark, and its every shade of meaning, as well as though it were human speech.
I want somebody I know something about. Finest stretch of prairie and timber you ever squinted your eye over, Sam. Now if you was " "Speaking of hydrophobia," said the dogman, "the other night he chewed a piece out of my leg because I knocked a fly off of Marcella's arm. 'It ought to be cauterized, says Marcella, and I was thinking so myself.
"You pass through the kitchen to get to the bedroom," said the dogman, "and you pass through the parlour to get to the bath room, and you back out through the dining-room to get into the bedroom so you can turn around and leave by the kitchen. And he snores and barks in his sleep, and I have to smoke in the park on account of his asthma." "Don't Missis Telfair " began Jim.
"Oh, shut up!" said the dogman. "What is it this time?" "Whiskey," said Jim. "Make it two," said the dogman. "Well, I'll be racking along down toward the ferry," said the other. "Come on, there, you mangy, turtle-backed, snake-headed, bench-legged ton-and-a-half of soap-grease!" shouted the dogman, with a new note in his voice and a new hand on the leash.
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