The gazette-times. [volume] (Heppner, Or.) 1912-1925, 1915-02-11
That Mongrel Cur of Johnny's

certainly as sorrowful an object as
| ever saw. A poor. ragged, half
starved mongrel--exactly like hun
dred other Indian dogs, and yet pitt
ful in his evident suffering. | can't
stand the sight of brute in pain,
he's so absolutely helpless.
Johnny, the "flunky," was sitting
under the one tree the camp af-
forded, peeling potatoes. AS ! walked
by, thought he eyed me rather
wistfully, and / paused to speak to
him. He was only Is, and not es-
pecially stalwart, and it occurred to
me that perhaps>he might care good
deal for his dog.
What's the matter with Pedro,
Johnny" l asked. Pedro was his
name for the mongrel.
Il do know" said Johnny SOL
idly.
I'm afraid he's pretty SICK
ventured again.
Yep, him pretty sick.
Well probably have to shoot him,
Johnny"
Yep, mebbe SO"
| left, laughing at myself for hav-
ing accused an Indian Of sentiment.
The "flunky" had not for one instant
paused in his work, nor had his ex-
preston changed particle in the
course of the conversation. Prob
ably the dog was only a stray that
had followed him, and that was all
there was to the affair.
BY this time the gang were begin
ming to come out Of the breakfast
room," and there was much exam
ination and comment over the suffer-
ing animal. It is strange how little
it takes to excite and interest a
crowd of men when they have been
working hard for months away out
in the barren lands where civiliza-
ton passes by on both sides and
nothing ever happens save a semi-oc-
casional accident or fight.
The dog lay painting in the terrible
heat, without movement, and it was
plain that he was in very bad way.
He ought to be shot, poor fella, P"
said McCarey.
He ought that" said Bill, limp
ing out of his tent. "The son of a
gun has been the cause of me fillin'
me foot with these lovely cactuses.
He aughta be slain."
Gray, the chief engineer, spoke up.
"The beast really should be put
out of his misery. The flies and
heat are awful, and we can't do a
thing for him."
Eyes, but wo'll shoot him." some
one asked. II wouldn't do it on a
bet"
II have a grand idea," said Bill,
suddenly. Let every man of us do
something, and we'll have a regular
funeral for the poor devil. I'll shoot
him myself, il one of yell do the
buryin'."
"Oh, I'll bury him." said I, but
you'll have to find somebody else to
dig the hole. It's too hot to be using
a shovel out In the sun"
As has been previously observed,
a crowd of men situated as these were
are very apt to welcome anything at
all out of the ordinary in the way of
diversion, and SO Immediately every
one was eagerly offering to help with
the proposed ceremony.
"1ll dig the hole" said McCarey,
"a bit Of powder'll do that
I'VE really ought to have music
of some kind" put in one of the sur
veyors.
well, we have a perfectly good
phonograph,' said Harry King, and
the last time Mac went to town he
brought back a fine bunch of pious
records. Mac must have got re-
ligion on that trip, because he
brought back Nearer, My God, to
Thee and Old Hundred. I"
There was a laugh from the crowd.
In a way, the whole idea seemed to
amuse them, and yet they all seemed
to be touched by the dogs pain, and
to feel that what they were going to
do was really kind act. They have
hearts, these rough men Of the camp
bigger ones for the most part than
their polished brothers Of the city
whom real life so often passes almost
entirely by. And in this case the
idea of getting any amusement out OF
the animals death was only an after
, thought, prompted by their natural
, longing for something TO break The
monotony Of the camp routine.
McCarey went after dynamite, fuse
, and caps, and Bill went after his shot
gun. A flag was to be hoisted al
: ho,f, most on tho ann fla O. mole TIL,