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Updated: June 5, 2025
He thought it evidence of weakening, of sudden fear, of terror inspired in Jan by the sight of the thing he had impulsively done. Yes, Sourdough entirely misread Jan; and he believed now that he had ample time in which to bleed and cripple the big hound by means of his natural wolf tactics, and then to finish off a helpless enemy at leisure. Cunning often does mislead those who possess it.
When Sourdough walked in and learned the situation he bellowed, "Sufferin' sinners!" and tore out like a mad steer. He cut into the haystack, cut up a few posts from the corral fence and made a fire and when a range rider makes a fire it burns like a conflagration. Milk the cow? What the hell did they think he was, a calf? Sourdough, like most cowboys, had never milked a cow.
And then there's Sourdough. When that husky's leg is sound again he'll be about as safe a domestic pet as a full-grown grizzly. No, it's better you should be away for a bit. Also, my friend, it's a chance for you. There are some pretty queer customers pass along that Buck's Crossing trail these days, making north. Your beat's a long one. You'll have a good deal of responsibility; and, who knows?
Occasionally, and upon a first meeting, some careless, undiscerning dog would overlook these qualities. The same dog never made the same mistake a second time. Dick Vaughan made it his business to be on hand when Sourdough first met Jan.
As his feet left the ground his life was ended, as Sourdough saw it. And then had come Jan's miraculous, shuddering withdrawal, wholly inexplicable, chilling to the heart in its uncanny unexpectedness. Sourdough mechanically regained his footing, and then with low-hung head, inward-curling tail, and crouching shoulders he slunk away at the heel of his bitterly disappointed master.
That was a serious moment, if you like, for Sourdough; for in addition to the huge power of those jaws there was weight a hundred and sixty-four pounds of sinew, bone, and rubber-like muscle behind and above the jaws. A very desperate vigor stirred in Sourdough's limbs as he took the course which is only taken at critical moments.
Daylight, too, was sceptical, and this despite his faith in the Upper Country. Had he not, only a few days before, seen Carmack loafing with his Indians and with never a thought of prospecting? But at eleven that night, sitting on the edge of his bunk and unlacing his moccasins, a thought came to him. He put on his coat and hat and went back to the Sourdough.
At the moment that the husky's fangs touched the skin of Micky's throat, Jan was upon him like a battering-ram, shoulder to shoulder, with an impact that sent the husky rolling, all four feet in the air, a position in which no barracks dog had ever before seen Sourdough, and one in which any of them would have given a day's food to find him.
Sourdough, like his master, was dour, morose, forbidding, and a confirmed solitary. He was also a singularly ugly and unattractive creature, whom no man had ever seen at play. But prior to Jan's arrival he had been the unquestioned chief and master among R.N.W.M.P. dogs.
So excuse the errors of a sourdough, keep track of me I want to talk to you later. Good bye for this time. I shall enjoy being a true friend to every reader of Black Beaver the Trapper. Ask me questions, if you have my address, write to me while I am in the wilderness.
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