And Dennis never saw the poor beast kicked or beaten without
reflecting: "He does that to Mamie when nobody ain't lookin'." In his
feeble fashion he tried to interfere. Dollars to Tom Barker were
dearer than cardinal virtues, and he had never been known to refuse an
opportunity to make a bit on any deal. Dennis offered to buy the dog.
"What's he worth?" said Tom, thrusting out his jaw.
"I'll give five for him."
"Five? For a dog that I've learned to love? Not much!"
"Ten?"
"Nope!"
"Fifteen?"
Tom laughed.
"You ain't got money enough to buy him," he said. "I'm going to have
more fun than a barrel o' monkeys out o' this yere dog, and don't you
forget it!"
After this Dennis, the Sunday-school teacher, the man whose golden
slippers were awaiting him in the sweet by-and-by, began to lie awake
at night and wrestle with the problem: "Is a man ever justified in
breaking the sixth commandment?" The camp held that Tom bore a charmed
life. Men had tried to kill him more than once, and had perished
ingloriously in the attempt. His coolness and courage were
indisputable. There are moments in a lumberman's business when nothing
will save an almost impossible situation but the instant exercise of
the most daring and devil-may-care pluck, determination, and skill.
Pages:
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405
406
407
408
409
410
411
412
413
414