Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 18, 1925 — page 151: what you’re looking at

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

~ We a Z, of , * ; - j lege sak = li By HOWARD E. MORGAN regular, ghostly under the pale moon- light, the sheep spread out over the hillside, dozing contentedly. On the crest of the short slope that was the pasture, a big gray and white dog sat watching the flock. From time to time he started off in a businesslike mahner and hurried some blundering ewe back into the moonlit open. Ordinarily, this close attention was not necessary. Stupid though they were, most of the sheep knew better than to approach the strip of checkered shadow bordering the thicket, that was the dividing line between safety and danger. Just now, however, there were several young lambs among them, newly born, and the mothers seemed to have lost all sense of discretion. So at least Bill thought as for the tenth time he urged an obstinate ewe and her spindle legged calf away from the forest edge. Each time, this particular ewe had refused to take his fangless proddings seriously and in good part; each time she had resented his interference with her senseless plans, and shoulders of dirty gray rock, ir- finally, she charged him, furiously, with low- ered head—so quickly that, as he sprang aside, she caught him a glancing blow that almost upset him. The big dog recovered quickly, circled swiftly about and rushed at her, silently, teeth bared. Not until within half a doz- en feet of his intended victim did he realize what he was doing. It was then too late to stop. He sprang clear over the ewe and crouched panting in the shadow of a stump. Through a necklike opening in the forest came the ring of an ax on wood. That was the man cutting kindlings for his morning fire. The big dog cowered. Whined soft- ly. Once more he had nearly proved un- faithful to the master. For long he lay low, belly to the ground, then came erect slow- ly and tail between his legs, again took up his sentinellike position on the ridge top. Bill was a mongrel, a splendid mixture of at least four fine strains; his mother was a sled dog from the Yukon, part chow, part Ungava husky with a dash of wolf blood running strongly near the surface; 301 <S) CORMICLOO© (E@)