Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 5, 2025
"No, no," said O'Malley, the man of Cork; "he's going to stay right here an' be our mascot. Aren't ye, Jan?" And Jan affably signified his agreement. "That's all right," said French, knocking his pipe out against the heel of his boot. "But what's going to happen to-morrow when Sergeant Moore gets back with his Sourdough? You'll see some fun then, I fancy.
Beckon you could manufacture a pair for me?" His eyes made love. "You've done everything else." He caught her hand and kissed the palm of it. "Can't the Billy part turn carpenter?" "I'll see. Say, Ward, do you think you could shave off those whiskers if I got everything ready for you? I don't like you to look like old Sourdough. Or maybe I could do it. I I used to shave daddy's neck, sometimes."
"My hat!" cried Dick, as he dismounted. "Has he killed the sergeant's dog?" "He would ha' done, the darlin', if the sergeant had bin a man, in place o' the mad divil he is," replied O'Malley. For a week and more after the fight the barracks saw nothing of Sourdough, whose leg was being mended for him in the stable of a veterinary surgeon in Regina.
Sergeant Moore, who had just returned from three days' leave, had learned from the veterinary surgeon that morning that Sourdough must always limp a little on his near fore leg, which would be permanently a little shorter than its fellow, by reason of the slight twist which surgical care had been unable to prevent.
A day or so after Jan's first meeting with Sourdough a thing occurred in Regina which, for a little while, occupied the minds of most people, to the exclusion of such matters as the relations between any two dogs. A woman and her husband were found murdered in a little fruiterer's and greengrocer's shop. Evidence showed that the murder must have occurred late at night.
Calling in Sourdough Sam, the cook who made everything but coffee out of sourdough, he ordered him to mix enough sourdough to fill the big watertank. Hitching Babe to the tank he hauled it over and dumped it into the lake. When it "riz," as Sam said, a mighty lava-like stream poured forth and carried the logs over the hills to the river.
That noon, up in their cabin, Shorty placed on the table a pot of beans, a pot of coffee, a pan of sourdough biscuits, a tin of butter and a tin of condensed cream, a smoking platter of moose-meat and bacon, a plate of stewed dried peaches, and called: "Grub's ready. Take a slant at Sally first."
About noon a cowboy came fighting his way through the drifts in search of lost cattle which the storm must have driven in this direction the only soul who dared to cross the plains that day. It was Sourdough. I never knew his real name. I doubt if those with or for whom he worked knew.
He had only one arm and one leg, the other members having been lost when his sourdough barrel blew up. Sam officiated at Tadpole River headquarters, the winter Shot Gunderson took charge. After all others had failed at Big Onion camp, Paul hired his cousin Big Joe who came from three weeks below Quebec. This boy sure put a mean scald on the chuck.
The logic of this had already occurred to us, and we were not particularly cheered by the cowboy's confirmation of our worst suspicions. "What do you suppose they're buildin' them fires for?" Ma Wagor was anxious to know. Sourdough couldn't say as to that. But he 'lowed it might be to burn the scalps in. At that we missed Ma. She had slipped into the house to wash her feet.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking