The Argosy, Vol. 84 No. 2 — page 124: what you’re looking at

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

306 rambling, old-fashioned house with an ancient rose-vine climbing up its side and sprawling all over its weather-worn roof, “Newt an’ his old woman. Thought a heap of that dog, Newt did. More ’n he did of some of his own children, J reckon. ’Cause some of his family ain’t any too much credit to the old folks, ’specially the boys. But that there dog, Captain Bright, surely Was some dog. Newt ’Il tell you ali about him if you encourage ’im just the least little bit. Well, so-long, sir. Fine day.” And my acquaintance of the moment passed on. The dog mourner must have seen or overheard, for at that moment a little, shriveled, mackerel of a man opened the back kitchen door of the big house and came out. He was in his shirt-sleeves; he wore a faded straw hat, and his lean, clean-shaven jaws Fletcherized tobacco like a steam dirt-shovel. “ Howdy, stranger,” he called out cheerily, coming toward the picket-fence where I stood. By way of explaining my presence I glanced at the grave. | “The last resting-place of a faithful four-footed friend, I am told,” I said, pointing. ‘‘ He must have been a remark- able dog.” Newt Meaney came close to the fence. He aimed a liquid projectile at a clod of dirt, then rolled his quid to a convenient place under his sunken cheek. “Remarkable?” he repeated in a tone which implied that I had fallen far short of choosing a strong enough adjective. “ Remarkable? Remarkable ain’t the right word at all, mister. That there dog was more ’n remarkable. He was some.” Then the old man went to a small gate a few steps away and opened it. “Come in, stranger,” he _ invited. “Come in an’ rest a spell, if yuh don’t mind.”’ I didn’t mind, so I thanked him, and presently we were seated in comfortable, old-fashioned chairs in the “ best room ”’ of the homey old house. A pleasant-faced THE ARGOSY. old housewife nodded a greeting to me and then quietly withdrew from the room. ‘““Chaw?” proffered Newt Meaney, finding a thick, golden plug in one of his pockets and holding it out. I declined but smiled my thanks. “Smoke, then?” he persisted, reaching for a jar of tobacco on a shelf at his elbow. I had my own pipe and pouch with me, but, to promote comradeship, I ac- cepted his tobacco, and soon, enjoying the weed which is the coin current of good fellowship the world over, we were con- versing as though we had known each other years instead of minutes. “Yes,” the old man resumed, taking up again the subject of the dog, “ Capt’n bright—some of us called ’im Capt’n an’ some Bright, though he was both bright an’ a dog captain—was some dog. He was one dog in a million, yuh might say.” ‘“What breed was he?” I was inter- ested to know. “ Breed?” Old Newt Meaney dropped a cataract of tobacco-juice into the cus- pidor by the side of his rocking-chair and laughed. ‘‘ He was mostly just plain dog. Of course J think he was more collie than anything else. Had the collie p’ints—big body; thick, shaggy brown hair in front; slim legs, pointed nose an’ ears. Mighty affectionate, too, like a collie; though that’s true of most any breed if yuh use ‘em right. “But I guess the Capt’n had a dash of wolf-hound in ’im also, just to give ’im a good fightin’ edge, like pepper in the oyster soup. As for that, though, he may have had a little bull in ’im, too. He sure had a bull’s stayin’ qualities in a fight. Some of the boys used to claim that he was part greyhound, but I never could see it, though I'd wager my ole hat that Cap had more ’n a drop of shep- herd. But underneath all them breeds ole Capt’n had a good, wide streak of still another mighty useful breed—just ordi- nary yeller. “You see, here’s my idee about dogs an’ their breeds. Of course pure blood’s COMMICLMO@OOKS (C@