The gazette-times. [volume] (Heppner, Or.) 1912-1925, 1915-02-11

SNOWS at " ClOCht tuC WdS llttlE
cooler. The whole camp had moved
out Of doors, and the space before
the row of cleaning tents was dotted
with canvas cots and recumbent
forms that tossed and swore uncom-
fortably.
1t was at least beginning to doze
a little. when a dog howled mourn
fully from the vicinity of the cook
tent. l swore sleepily, and rolled
over, and was again floating away
in the arms of Morpheus, when again
the howl arose, followed by a mad
dening succession Of winnings and
growlngs. That was the last straw.
| sat up in bed, but before | could
express myself, | heard Bill O'Hara,
the timekeeper, remark to the night
and to the assembled company:
II wonder what in hell is the mat
ter with that cross between a lost
soul and Gila monster!"
The dog howled again.
Someone else swore fluently, and
boot hurtled through the air,
bringing up with a crash against the
thinly-boarded wall of the cook-tent.
What's the matter with you
swabs? Can't you let the only work
ing man in camp sleep, you lazy
windjammers?" came in irate tones
from within those sacred precincts
The cook had been a sailor, among
many other things, and still pre-
served some Of the vernacular when
in an eXcitable frame of mind.
The camp was thoroughly awake
by this time.
Whose dog is it?" demanded
Harry King, the concrete boss.
IT'S that cur Of Jobnny's, | reck-
on" said someone. Johnny was the
Indian "flunky," or cooks helper.
We'll, what's it yelpin' about?'
asked one of my co-workers of the
engineering department.
Hes sick," said the cook, lacon-
ically.
Some dogs sure have nerve"
said Bill, meditatively. I'm sick
lot myself, but don't keep the
whole blasted camp awake tellin' 'em
about It,"
Everyone roared. Bill's complaint
was well known and of long stand
ing. It took the form of violent
aversion for all physical exercise, and
was politely dubbed "hookworm' by
the men. Construction camps abound
with delicate sarcasms.
The dog hOwled again.
Bill cursed explosively, and got out
of bed. We could see a white form
flickering through the duck; then
there was thump, a startled bark,
and then a succession of yelps, as
the dog vanished into the boulder
strewn hills to the east of camp. Bill
came back swearing horribly. He
was in his bare feet and had stepped
on a piece of dry cactus; | fear he
did not sleep well the rest of that
night.
The next day was Sunday, and 1t
was as hot as ever. | managed to
cool off a bit in nearby irrigating
ditch before ! walked into the cook
tent with the rest of the gang for
our belated Sunday breakfast. But
by the time | had been there five
minutes | was hotter than ever, and
more miserable. Heat Is not con-
ductive to appetite under the best OF
conditions, but in a camp this Is es-
pecially true. The grub is eatable
when one Is hungry, but during a
hot spell everything seems peculiar
ly greasy and unpleasant, the butter
has q trick Of running down off the
edge of ones plate and mixing with
the bacon, and the coffee is hotter
than anything civilized man can
well imagine. The conversation was
not appetizing that morning, either.
pass the skid grease" said some
one. Skid grease" is butter in vul-
gar parlance.
where's Bill?" asked McCarey,
the construction boss.
A laugh went up.
"Pickin thorns outa his foot" said
one of the men, with his mouth full.
Shoot the gaskets," requested the
man on my right ! reached for the
hot cakes and asked IL the dog had
returned.
Hes back" volunteered the cook,
"and well have to shoot him, | guess.
He's all shot up, and he's got big
sore on the side of his head that"
| lost interest in breakfast about
that time and slid out the door, but
as went heard the chief engineer
say.
"The poor beast ought to be put
out of his misery"
looked for the dog and found