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Updated: May 5, 2025
Like a lynx, Sourdough drew in and up his powerful hind quarters, and, as if they had been a missile launched from a catapult, slashed his two hind feet along Jan's belly, as a carpenter might rip a board down with a chisel.
This done, Sourdough would pass on, with hackles erect and a hunch of his shoulders which seemed to say: "When next you are inclined to rudeness, remember that Sourdough knows all things, forgets nothing, and bites deep."
Yet let one of those dogs but cock an eye of impudence in his direction, or glance with lifting eyebrow at one of his fellows, with a sneer or jeer in his heart for Sourdough, and in that instant Sourdough would be upon him like an angry lynx, with a bitter snarl and a snap that was pretty certain to leave its scar.
"They're afraid, Sourdough, that's what it is; they're afraid you might chew up the overgrown brute and spit him out in scraps about the yard. Let 'em wait. We'll give 'em something to be afraid of presently." He meant it, and he kept his word. Since the Italian murder case, a regular craze had developed among the men for trailing and the education of dogs.
"Aye, you're tough, Old-Timer," he had been heard to growl to his dog; "you're a hard case, all right. There isn't a soft hair on you, is there, Sourdough? And they all know it. They may squeal, but they've got to give trail when Sourdough comes along."
It was said of one of these that he had to wear calked shoes to keep from sliding out of the cook-shanty and rub sand on his hands when he picked anything up. There are two kinds of camp cooks, the Baking Powder Bums and the Sourdough Stiffs. Sourdough Sam belonged to the latter school. He made everything but coffee out of Sourdough.
Ye've trailed like a real sourdough, an' never a word of the hard work an' the discomfort. 'Tis born in ye, lass the love of the bush an' I'm glad. I've come to know ye better the last four days than I have in twenty-one years of school, an' dancing an' all the flibberty-jibbitin' nonsense ye carry on." They had reached the door of the trading room, and the man interrupted her laughing reply.
There were times when he would cuff the dog, or snatch his food from him, for the sheer delight of hearing the beast snarl as he always would at his own master. "What a husky!" he would say in an ecstasy of admiration. "You'd go for me if I gave you half a chance, wouldn't you, Sourdough? And I don't blame you, you old tough."
Paul shipped a stern-wheel steamboat up Red River and they put it in the soup kettle to stir the soup. Like other artists, cooks are temperamental and some of them are full of cussedness but the only ones who could sass Paul Bunyan and get away with it were the stars like Big Joe and Sourdough Sam. The lunch sled, most popular institution in the lumber industry!
"I have no plans. For a time, I guess I'll loaf and look about. Then I want to see my father's folks, whom I haven't met." "Your father was English?" "Why, yes," said Lister, smiling. "If you reckon up, you'll find a big proportion of the staunchest Canadians' parents came from the Old Country. In fact, I sometimes feel Canada belongs to us and the boys of the sourdough stock.
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