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"You can't make a shepherd's dog out of every dog, can you?" "Perhaps not, in your meaning. But I do know I could train a'most any dog, if as I'd be so minded." Scot was on ahead, where he should be. Murphy was close to heel. "Do you mean to say you could train this one to fold sheep?" Job Nutt took a deep draw at his pipe, and turned and looked down at Murphy, now just over three years old.

Young Matt there'll guide you." As he watched the wagon down the valley, the stranger mused. "Doc Doc huh. Quite sure that fellow will buy a drink; quite sure." When the wagon had disappeared, he turned to Mr. Matthews and his son; "According to that fellow, I am not far from a sheep ranch kept by a Mr. Howitt. That's it, Mr.

With a sigh he came back from his long flight into the future, and took up his instrument-case with caressing hand. Placing it on his knees, he opened it and lifted the glittering instruments fondly. Of course, if he could make it go at his profession that would be the thing. It would be better than all the sheep on Wyoming's dusty hills.

However, he entirely forbade us the use of blood for food, and esteemed it to contain the soul and spirit. He also forbade us to eat the flesh of an animal that died of itself, as also the caul, and the fat of goats, and sheep, and bulls.

"What's the matter with you?" said Dr. O'Grady. "To look at the expression of your face anybody'd think that the sheep in the back yard had been skinning you." "You know well what's the matter with me." "If you're nursing a grievance," said Dr. O'Grady, "because Thady Gallagher told the American gentleman that you were married to Mary Ellen and had twins, you ought to have more sense."

"Most of the women I know would be frightened to death if they were caught in such a rain as this; would be more than frightened to death if they had to ride down that hill most of 'em think they've done wonder if they get in at the end of a run over a fairly easy country; and none of 'em could doctor a sick sheep to save their lives." "Yes," she said, dreamily.

And then he lapsed back into silence, his head turned as before. The wind breathed through the corredor, bringing with it a distant, plaintive bleating the sheep, waiting beyond the turbid river to cross. "I have forgotten about Kitty," he said absently. "For me there is nothing in the world but sheep. Can't you hear them bleating down there?" he cried, throwing out his hands.

He heard faint sounds of music proceeding from the "Frozen Sheep" in the distance, and some one on his way home was singing a Slovak shepherd's song. Gyuri lighted a cigar, and sat down to smoke it and think things over.

In this hedge, on each side of us, were gateways so close together that when, as occasionally happened, people passed through one, we were forced to crawl up to the other to avoid detection. We had done so again when, without warning, a drover came plodding up behind his sheep. We had no time in which to go back up the hedge.

We aint had any new recruits lately, and there aint a man among us whom I could not answer for. There must be a black sheep in Gregory's or Vincent's corps. The enemy seem up to every move, and, between us, we have lost more than thirty men in the last few weeks.