Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 18, 1925 — page 156: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

306 that every one and everything was against him. Alone with his thoughts, he longed for an opportunity to give vent to his vengeful feelings. Of his real and fancied enemies, Bill was nearest at hand. Hence it was that he carried his long rifle with him wherever he went, hoping ever for a chance shot at his unfaithful friend. Hardin knew dogs and he felt sure that Bill could not stay away for long. One day—he would come back. When he did —the rifle would be ready at hand. In the man’s hardened heart there was no room for clemency; to his mind, the renegade sheep dog was no different from any other killer of sheep—the coyote or the wolf. In fact, he was worse, if anything. From a neighbor, Hardin purchased an- other sheep dog, a lazy old collie called Stub—Stub because a bear trap had claimed all but six inches of his bushy tail. The collie was a good enough sheep dog as sheep dogs go, but his cringing docility found no response in the man’s spirited na- ture. The random shot from the man’s rifle had torn a deep groove along Bill’s ribs. The wound did not respond readily to his frequent cleansings, festered and would not heal. For several days he was very ill, lay close hidden in the alder swamp. He re- verted naturally to a health giving diet of tansy and coarse grasses. At the end of a week .the wound began to heal. So also did his sore nose. And with the first sign of returning good health came an irresistible yearning to return to the old life. | The whispering silences of the alder swamp appalled him. He was restless and nervous. He longed for the sheep; they had become a part of his very self. He longed for the cabin, the heap of old bur- lap bags behind the stove, the bits of fish and half-cooked meat; but above all, he longed for the little things—the boisterous rompings, the kind words, the rough caress —which only the man, his man, could be- stow. Came a night when he crawled out of his hiding place and made his way slowly, un- certainly toward the pasture. He was still ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. * very weak. ‘Tottered when he walked. At first glimpse of the fat old dog, Stub, he flew into a great rage. If his strength had permitted he would at once have challenged the collie to battle. But discretion fortu- nately prevailed. He merely crouched low at the edge of the thicket, teeth bared in a perpetual snarl—and watched. Every night thereafter, he occupied, the same spot among the gray shadows border- ing the swamp. He saw the man inspect: ing the flock and growled lovingly. But sight of the rifle brought him to his senses, The man would shoot him—he knew. When Hardin returned to the cabin he trailed along—at a distance. With ears cocked inquiringly, head on one side, he followed longingly the man’s preparations for supper. Later, when the cabin was in darkness, he stole forward furtively and searched for scraps. He found only a large strip of pork rind which ordinarily he would have ignored. But now—he swallowed it gratefully and hunted for more. With the coming of night he returned to the pasture and during the few short hours of darkness, unseen, unsuspected, assisted Stub in guard- ing the herd. But with the complete return of his strength, this vicarious enjoyment of things once his own, did not satisfy. Came a night when he openly fronted the collie on the ridge top. The latter was game and flew clumsily at Bill’s throat. Bill easily evaded him. The tussle was brief and bloodless. Bill could easily have killed the collie; in- stead, he merely rolled him over on his back and fastened his great teeth gently but firm- ly in the other’s throat, barely breaking the skin. Stub saw the light. The fight went out of him. Thereafter the herd was Bill’s. He might have killed to his heart’s content had he so desired. But there was nothing further from his thoughts. Instead he took over his old job. Stub soon came to take these nightly visits as a matter of course, and slept peacefully on his favorite bed of pine needles while Bill watched the sheep. And then one day Bill came face to face with the man. From the summit of a grassy knoll Bill had espied the familiar figure and had circled about in a wide ar¢ COPMICGOOOKS (E@)