pfaugh

Updated: June 16, 2025

And yet two men had lived in that pen all winter, and emerged healthy and fairly good-tempered in the spring. The companions peered through the door at the uninviting interior. The floor was a litter of rubbish, old clothes in a state of decomposition, leaves, bones, and rusty cans and pans. Young McCrae wrinkled an outraged nose. "Pfaugh!" he snorted. "The shack's filthy. We can't use it."

A. M. (Arthur Murray) Chisholm - Desert Conquest: or, Precious Waters