Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 21, 2025
A blighted leper was Daughtry's thought as his quick eyes leapt from hands to feet in quest of missing toe- and finger-joints. But in those items the ancient was intact, although one leg ceased midway between knee and thigh. "My word! What place stop 'm that fella leg?" quoth Daughtry, pointing to the space which the member would have occupied had it not been absent.
The cockatoo stepped upon Daughtry's inviting index finger, swiftly ascended his shirt sleeve, and, on his shoulder, claws sunk into the flimsy shirt fabric till they hurt the flesh beneath, leaned head to ear and uttered in gratitude and relief, and in self-identification: "Cocky. Cocky." "You son of a gun," Daughtry crooned. "Glory be!"
Dag Daughtry's face hardened unconsciously with the stiffening of his will to dogged opposition, which, in its own slow quiet way, would go to any length to have its way. But he answered respectfully enough, his features, by a shrewd effort, relaxing into a seeming of his customary good-nature. "He's a good dog, sir, and an unoffending dog.
And as to forecasting Dag Daughtry's fate, along with Kwaque, no maddest drug-dream could have approximated it. One night Dag Daughtry sat at a table in the saloon called the Pile-drivers' Home. He was in a parlous predicament. Harder than ever had it been to secure odd jobs, and he had reached the end of his savings.
Nishikanta, you can go to hell, sir, and all the rest as well," was Daughtry's quiet response, although in the same breath he was saying, respectfully and assuringly, to the Ancient Mariner: "You hold Killeny, sir. I'll take care of your dunnage. Is there anything special you want to save, sir?"
But had Walter Merritt Emory been thus considerate, not only would Daughtry and Kwaque have sailed out and away over the sea, but with them would have sailed Michael. Never was a reception-roomful of patients rushed through more expeditiously than was Doctor Emory's the moment the door had closed upon the two policemen who brought up Daughtry's rear.
"Seems the beggar's taken a fancy to me," the steward smiled to himself. Nor was he capable of guessing Ah Moy's reason for bunking always on the opposite side from Kwaque. "I changee," the little old cook explained, with anxious eyes to please and placate, in response to Daughtry's direct question. "All the time like that, changee, plentee changee. You savvee?"
The first, a politician and a doctor, by name Emory Walter Merritt Emory was several times at Daughtry's table, where Michael sat with them on a chair according to custom. Among other things, in gratitude for such kindnesses from Daughtry, Doctor Emory gave his office card and begged for the privilege of treating, free of charge, either master or dog should they ever become sick.
He ain't the dog he was when he come on board. He's a whole lot of me now, an' sellin' him would be like sellin' a piece of myself." "Thirty pounds," said the captain with finality. "No, sir, thankin' you just the same, sir," was Daughtry's refusal. And Captain Duncan was forced to turn away in order to greet the port doctor coming over the side.
Again, in the course of turning to look at Kwaque, his eyes rested an instant on the lion-lines of Daughtry's brow. "Rheumatism is still the great mystery," Doctor Emory said, returning to Daughtry as if deflected by the thought. "It's almost individual, there are so many varieties of it. Each man has a kind of his own. Any numbness?" Daughtry laboriously wiggled his little finger.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking