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| committer | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-01-14 00:10:30 -0800 |
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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75013 ***
+
+
+
+
+
+JIM
+
+by A. A. Strachan
+
+
+ A former officer of the Canadian Mounted Police here
+ vividly recounts the extraordinary adventure that
+ befell him and his dog in the “bush.”
+
+
+I must confess that Jim did it under protest.
+
+Jim was a regimental dog, and had no use for anyone who did not wear a
+red tunic. He had been brought up in the barracks and knew every
+bugle-call as well as any trooper of the Canadian Northwest Mounted
+Police. When the bugler went to the parade-ground, Jim punctiliously
+followed him, and while he sounded, the puppy squatted on his hind legs
+and imitated the calls to his own entire satisfaction. When the dinner
+bugle pealed across the square, Jim was always first at the mess-room
+door, and his day ended with Retreat as regularly as the sun went down.
+
+So you can see that when I took my discharge from the service one April
+in the nineties and filed on a bush homestead some distance north of the
+North Saskatchewan River, it nearly broke Jim’s heart. Fond as he was of
+me, I don’t believe I could have persuaded him to follow me to the
+homestead if I had not brought my old regimental tunic along and worn it
+at intervals to satisfy his doggish mind. For weeks after we settled
+down he moped, only reviving at any slight indication that I might be
+going to take the trail out. Then such a tail-wagging, such agonized
+whines and yaps, such yanks at my trouser-legs, such coaxing running
+ahead on the trail and barked invitations to quit this foolishness and
+go back to where he considered we both belonged. But I was obdurate; and
+at last, finding that I had no intention of quitting, Jim became
+reconciled to exile. For a long time, though, he seemed to miss the
+sound of the bugle more than anything else; and each day, about the
+hours of Reveille and Retreat, poor Jim would squat on his stumpy tail
+and howl his heart out.
+
+Except for Jim I was practically alone, my nearest neighbor being six
+miles away. I had chosen the bush country because I preferred to have
+wood and water about, and felt there were more ways in which I could
+make a living in such a district than there were on the prairie, where
+your homestead is a piece of dirt with a piece of sky on top that is too
+far away to keep you warm in winter.
+
+I had been in the country for ten years and knew it as a member of the
+Northwest Mounted must--was acclimatized, had friends in Prince Albert,
+the nearest town, and liked the semi-hermit life that I elected to lead.
+I was resolved to go it alone, and so Jim and I got right down to brass
+tacks.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+The first thing I did was to get out a set of house logs and a load of
+dressed lumber, doors, windows, and so forth. The logs I cut near my own
+land; the lumber I had to haul thirty miles from town. Before the first
+snow flew, my house and stable were finished. I had dug a good well,
+broken ten acres and had a liberal supply of firewood on hand. A team of
+horses, and a couple of heifers, comprised my livestock. Jim was my
+society. After snow fell I devoted my attention to trapping and fishing.
+
+Winter fishing on Little Trout Lake, about ten miles from my homestead,
+is not a very sportsmanlike occupation. You simply stick up a tent on
+the ice, cut a hole and shove in a net. The fish come readily to this
+ventilator, are caught in the net, dragged out of the water by hand and
+thrown onto the ice, where they soon freeze solid. This is far from a
+pleasant operation, as anyone who has tried it will acknowledge.
+
+Between fur and fish I realized a nice little sum for my winter’s work,
+and was able, when I went to town in the spring, to lay in supplies
+sufficient to last me all summer and greatly to increase my stock of
+cattle and implements. I not only cropped the ten acres I had previously
+broken, but broke and disked ten acres more that summer, besides putting
+up a new log stable large enough to accommodate two teams of horses and
+ten head of cattle. It was while engaged on this building that I met
+with the accident that, but for the intelligence of Jim, must have cost
+me my life.
+
+A log building, as everybody who has attempted it knows, is not an easy
+undertaking for one man alone. The cutting, hauling and hewing of the
+logs is no very difficult matter, of course, but when you come to hoist
+them one upon another, you will wish you had someone to handle the other
+end.
+
+I tried to get help but was disappointed, and not to be beaten,
+determined to try it alone. One afternoon I had gotten pretty near to
+the last log and was congratulating myself that the worst of the job was
+over, when, without any warning, the rope I was using as a pulley
+suddenly snapped and the log I was working on fell, crushing my left leg
+beneath it, and pinning me helplessly to the ground. For some minutes I
+was so stunned by the shock that I did not realize what had happened. A
+thousand fantastic thoughts flashed through my mind and I opened my eyes
+to find my faithful dog licking my face and uttering gasping, whining
+noises by way of expressing sympathy. I felt no pain but was powerless
+to move; the heavy log held my leg as if in a vise, though my right leg
+was free, as were also both arms. Yet, I was held in such a position
+that all the strength I could muster failed to move the log half an
+inch. Whether or not my leg was broken I could not tell until the log
+was removed. How that was to be done I did not know.
+
+My first impulse was to “holler.”
+
+Then came to me with a new meaning the Scriptural injunction that “It is
+not good for man to be alone.” I realized that I was very much alone and
+the chances of anyone coming to my assistance was as one in a thousand.
+I had not seen a human being for many days, my homestead being miles off
+the trail that led to the lumber-camps, and as I said before, I had no
+near neighbors. I shuddered as the thought gripped me that I might lie
+there until I starved to death, a prey to the prowling wolves against
+whom I was powerless to put up any kind of a fight for my life.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+As this dreadful thought struck me, I glanced helplessly around. My ax
+lay some little distance away. If I could only reach it! But I might as
+well have tried to reach the moon. Suddenly I thought of the dog. Poor
+Jim was sitting on his stumpy tail looking into my face and whining
+miserably as if in sympathy with my suffering. I had taught him to fetch
+and carry, to bring the ducks I had shot out of the water, and at this
+he was as expert as any retriever. If I could only get him to bring the
+ax within reach! I patted his head, and he leaped upon me eagerly,
+uttering little barks of joy. I pointed toward the ax and told him to
+fetch it. He ran off at once in the direction indicated.
+
+“Good boy,” I called. “The ax--fetch it, Jim!”
+
+He ran around in a circle a few times; then, seeing my whip, which I had
+thrown beside the wagon when I unhitched the team at noon, he pounced
+upon that and carried it proudly in his mouth to my side and dropped it.
+
+“No, no,” I cried, “go back. The ax, Jim--fetch it, good dog!”
+
+Away he trotted again and returned with one of my gauntlets, which lay
+right on the ax-handle. I sent him back again with a cuff on the ear; he
+took the ax-handle between his teeth and dragged it a little way dropped
+it and came bounding back with the other gauntlet.
+
+I was so disappointed that I hit the poor animal over the head with the
+butt of the whip. He gave a little howl of pain, and retreating some
+distance, sat down with a reproachful look toward me that cut me to the
+heart. Then I called him to me again, petted and stroked him for a
+while, and went through the motions of chopping with an ax, but for a
+long time he did not seem to understand. I kept pointing and shouting:
+“The ax--fetch it,” when all of a sudden he bounded away with a loud
+bark, seized the ax-handle with his teeth, and dragging it inch by inch,
+dropped it at my feet.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+Getting to a sitting posture I soon made the chips fly, while Jim danced
+around me barking with delight. It was not long before I had cut the log
+in two, as near my imprisoned leg as I dared, and it was then an easy
+matter, using the ax-handle as a lever, to pry it free. But my plight
+was still a desperate one, for when I tried to move, I found, as I
+expected, that my leg was broken a little above the ankle.
+
+I had a smattering of surgery, having been instructed in “first aid to
+the wounded,” which is part of the education of a Mounted Policeman;
+this stood me in good stead in this emergency. Having the ax, I was able
+to fashion a few rude splints with which, by the aid of strips torn from
+my shirt, I contrived to set and bandage the fracture.
+
+This having been accomplished, I essayed to crawl toward the shack,
+which stood at no great distance; but the pain I endured in the passage
+forced many a groan from between my set teeth--Jim licking my hands and
+face every time I was forced to stop from pain and exhaustion. At last,
+however, I managed to reach the door and crawled within. My cot was a
+low wire spring affair, and I just managed to drag myself to it when,
+for the first time in my life, I fainted....
+
+How long I remained unconscious I do not know. When I awoke, the moon
+was shining in at my open door, and Jim lay asleep by my side. It must
+have been cold with the door wide open, but as I did not feel it, I must
+have been very feverish. I know I longed for a drink of water but was
+quite unable to move. My leg felt as if paralyzed and I lay there on my
+back until daylight trying to figure a way out. I must have help or I
+should undoubtedly cash in, as they say in the West. For that purpose it
+was necessary to get word to town, or to someone who could come to my
+assistance; but how was I to send word? That was the puzzle, and again I
+felt that it was not good for man to be alone.
+
+Then I thought of the dog. Jim had already saved my life once; could he
+do so again? I resolved to try him--it was my one and only chance; and
+so, when it was light enough to see, I found the back of an old letter
+and the stump of a carpenter’s pencil in my waistcoat pocket, for I had
+not been able to remove my clothes. I managed to write and sign an
+appeal for help, describing my condition and the location of my
+homestead. This I wrapped in a piece of my torn shirt and tied the
+packet around Jim’s neck, fastening it to his collar in such a way as
+would readily attract attention, yet at the same time not be likely to
+come loose. In such an event, though, I believed the intelligent brute
+would have taken the packet in his mouth and laid it at the feet of the
+first person he met.
+
+I did not doubt that help would come; if my appeal was received, even by
+an Indian, he would be sure to take it to the nearest agency or Police
+post, even if he did not understand a word of the writing. I had very
+little hope, of course, that my four-footed messenger could be made to
+understand what I wanted him to do--but I had no other resource.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+Before driving him away I repeated often the two words, “George” and
+“Home,” at the same time pointing through the open door in the direction
+of the trail to town. George was my old troop chum, and was just about
+as fond of the dog as I was.
+
+For a long time I could not get Jim to leave me, until I sat up in bed,
+pretending to be very angry, and threw my boots at him. Then he trotted
+away a few hundred yards, stopped and looked back expectantly; but when,
+instead of calling him back, I again yelled “Go home” in the fiercest
+voice I could assume, he reluctantly started on again, and finally
+disappeared.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+For a long time I expected every minute to see my faithful companion
+poke his head into the door again, but as hour after hour went by and
+there was no sign of his return, I was forced to the joyful conclusion
+that he had indeed understood what was wanted of him, and was on his way
+to bring help.
+
+How I got through that terrible day I do not know. I had had nothing to
+eat or drink for about thirty hours; my head was aching excruciatingly;
+my throat was parched and burning, and I knew I was in a high state of
+fever. Looking back afterward, I believe I must have been suffering from
+delirium.
+
+At length darkness settled down, and I knew the dog must have gone on,
+or he would have been back long ago. Then I racked my brain trying to
+figure out how long it would be before help could come. Toward morning I
+thought I heard a dog barking in the distance, but put it down to a
+disordered brain, for my head continued to ache most dreadfully and my
+tongue seemed to be too large for my mouth. Then I fell asleep, and
+dreamed that poor old Jim was sitting on my chest crushing the life out
+of me.
+
+In my struggle to throw him off I awoke. It was broad daylight, and the
+first object I saw was Jim standing on his hindlegs with his forepaws on
+the edge of my cot, licking my face as he used to do when he thought it
+was near Reveille and time for me to get up.
+
+But my joy at seeing him was turned to fury when my eyes lighted upon
+his collar. There was my desperate appeal for help tied around his neck
+just as it was when I had sent him forth! I wrenched the packet away,
+almost choking him in my rage, and with a piece of wood I picked off the
+floor I dealt him a blow on the head that stretched the poor dog
+senseless.
+
+I was mad with fever or I never would have done it. I sat staring at the
+packet in my hand, and was just about to tear the paper up and cast it
+away when I noticed the writing was in ink and in a neat clerkly hand,
+whereas I had written with a broad carpenter’s pencil. For a moment, in
+my semi-delirious condition, I was lost in wonder at this
+transformation; then suddenly the truth flashed upon me. Tremblingly, I
+smoothed the paper out, and this is what I read: “Cheer up, old chap. We
+are starting to bring you help as soon as we can round up the doc. On
+the off chance that he may reach you before we do, I am sending this
+back by old Jim.--George.”
+
+“My God!” I cried in sorrow, as I reached over, gathered the faithful
+dog up in my arms and kissed his cold muzzle. “Poor old Jim, you saved
+my life twice in forty-eight hours, and I rewarded you with a blow like
+that!”
+
+ * * * * *
+
+When the doctor and two Mounted Policemen drove up an hour later, they
+found me delirious, with the dog in my arms licking away my tears, while
+I kissed and cried over him, they said, as if he had been a child.
+
+I may add that I got well and secured the title to my homestead in due
+time, that old Jim helped me to put in my residence duties; and when he
+died a few years ago, of old age, I put up a slab at his grave inscribed
+as follows:
+
+ JIM
+ A faithful dog, the friend and
+ companion of many years.
+
+
+[Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in the January 1927 issue of
+The Blue Book Magazine.]
+
+
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75013 ***
diff --git a/75013-h/75013-h.htm b/75013-h/75013-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a26a892 --- /dev/null +++ b/75013-h/75013-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,396 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html>
+<html lang="en">
+<head>
+ <meta charset="utf-8">
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+ <title>Jim | Project Gutenberg</title>
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+ body { margin-left: 8%; margin-right: 8% }
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+<body>
+<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75013 ***</div>
+
+<figure class="tpg">
+<img alt="frontispiece" src="images/illus-fpc.jpg">
+</figure>
+
+<h1>JIM</h1>
+<div style='text-align:center'>by A. A. Strachan</div>
+
+<blockquote>
+A former officer of the Canadian Mounted Police here
+vividly recounts the extraordinary adventure that befell
+him and his dog in the “bush.”
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>
+I must confess that Jim did it under protest.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Jim was a regimental dog, and had no use for anyone who did not wear a
+red tunic. He had been brought up in the barracks and knew every
+bugle-call as well as any trooper of the Canadian Northwest Mounted
+Police. When the bugler went to the parade-ground, Jim punctiliously
+followed him, and while he sounded, the puppy squatted on his hind legs
+and imitated the calls to his own entire satisfaction. When the dinner
+bugle pealed across the square, Jim was always first at the mess-room
+door, and his day ended with Retreat as regularly as the sun went down.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So you can see that when I took my discharge from the service one April
+in the nineties and filed on a bush homestead some distance north of the
+North Saskatchewan River, it nearly broke Jim’s heart. Fond as he was of
+me, I don’t believe I could have persuaded him to follow me to the
+homestead if I had not brought my old regimental tunic along and worn it
+at intervals to satisfy his doggish mind. For weeks after we settled
+down he moped, only reviving at any slight indication that I might be
+going to take the trail out. Then such a tail-wagging, such agonized
+whines and yaps, such yanks at my trouser-legs, such coaxing running
+ahead on the trail and barked invitations to quit this foolishness and
+go back to where he considered we both belonged. But I was obdurate; and
+at last, finding that I had no intention of quitting, Jim became
+reconciled to exile. For a long time, though, he seemed to miss the
+sound of the bugle more than anything else; and each day, about the
+hours of Reveille and Retreat, poor Jim would squat on his stumpy tail
+and howl his heart out.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Except for Jim I was practically alone, my nearest neighbor being six
+miles away. I had chosen the bush country because I preferred to have
+wood and water about, and felt there were more ways in which I could
+make a living in such a district than there were on the prairie, where
+your homestead is a piece of dirt with a piece of sky on top that is too
+far away to keep you warm in winter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+I had been in the country for ten years and knew it as a member of the
+Northwest Mounted must—was acclimatized, had friends in Prince Albert,
+the nearest town, and liked the semi-hermit life that I elected to lead.
+I was resolved to go it alone, and so Jim and I got right down to brass
+tacks.
+</p>
+
+<hr>
+
+<p>
+The first thing I did was to get out a set of house logs and a load of
+dressed lumber, doors, windows, and so forth. The logs I cut near my own
+land; the lumber I had to haul thirty miles from town. Before the first
+snow flew, my house and stable were finished. I had dug a good well,
+broken ten acres and had a liberal supply of firewood on hand. A team of
+horses, and a couple of heifers, comprised my livestock. Jim was my
+society. After snow fell I devoted my attention to trapping and fishing.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Winter fishing on Little Trout Lake, about ten miles from my homestead,
+is not a very sportsmanlike occupation. You simply stick up a tent on
+the ice, cut a hole and shove in a net. The fish come readily to this
+ventilator, are caught in the net, dragged out of the water by hand and
+thrown onto the ice, where they soon freeze solid. This is far from a
+pleasant operation, as anyone who has tried it will acknowledge.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Between fur and fish I realized a nice little sum for my winter’s work,
+and was able, when I went to town in the spring, to lay in supplies
+sufficient to last me all summer and greatly to increase my stock of
+cattle and implements. I not only cropped the ten acres I had previously
+broken, but broke and disked ten acres more that summer, besides putting
+up a new log stable large enough to accommodate two teams of horses and
+ten head of cattle. It was while engaged on this building that I met
+with the accident that, but for the intelligence of Jim, must have cost
+me my life.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A log building, as everybody who has attempted it knows, is not an easy
+undertaking for one man alone. The cutting, hauling and hewing of the
+logs is no very difficult matter, of course, but when you come to hoist
+them one upon another, you will wish you had someone to handle the other
+end.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+I tried to get help but was disappointed, and not to be beaten,
+determined to try it alone. One afternoon I had gotten pretty near to
+the last log and was congratulating myself that the worst of the job was
+over, when, without any warning, the rope I was using as a pulley
+suddenly snapped and the log I was working on fell, crushing my left leg
+beneath it, and pinning me helplessly to the ground. For some minutes I
+was so stunned by the shock that I did not realize what had happened. A
+thousand fantastic thoughts flashed through my mind and I opened my eyes
+to find my faithful dog licking my face and uttering gasping, whining
+noises by way of expressing sympathy. I felt no pain but was powerless
+to move; the heavy log held my leg as if in a vise, though my right leg
+was free, as were also both arms. Yet, I was held in such a position
+that all the strength I could muster failed to move the log half an
+inch. Whether or not my leg was broken I could not tell until the log
+was removed. How that was to be done I did not know.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+My first impulse was to “holler.”
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then came to me with a new meaning the Scriptural injunction that “It is
+not good for man to be alone.” I realized that I was very much alone and
+the chances of anyone coming to my assistance was as one in a thousand.
+I had not seen a human being for many days, my homestead being miles off
+the trail that led to the lumber-camps, and as I said before, I had no
+near neighbors. I shuddered as the thought gripped me that I might lie
+there until I starved to death, a prey to the prowling wolves against
+whom I was powerless to put up any kind of a fight for my life.
+</p>
+
+<hr>
+
+<p>
+As this dreadful thought struck me, I glanced helplessly around. My ax
+lay some little distance away. If I could only reach it! But I might as
+well have tried to reach the moon. Suddenly I thought of the dog. Poor
+Jim was sitting on his stumpy tail looking into my face and whining
+miserably as if in sympathy with my suffering. I had taught him to fetch
+and carry, to bring the ducks I had shot out of the water, and at this
+he was as expert as any retriever. If I could only get him to bring the
+ax within reach! I patted his head, and he leaped upon me eagerly,
+uttering little barks of joy. I pointed toward the ax and told him to
+fetch it. He ran off at once in the direction indicated.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+“Good boy,” I called. “The ax—fetch it, Jim!”
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He ran around in a circle a few times; then, seeing my whip, which I had
+thrown beside the wagon when I unhitched the team at noon, he pounced
+upon that and carried it proudly in his mouth to my side and dropped it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+“No, no,” I cried, “go back. The ax, Jim—fetch it, good dog!”
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Away he trotted again and returned with one of my gauntlets, which lay
+right on the ax-handle. I sent him back again with a cuff on the ear; he
+took the ax-handle between his teeth and dragged it a little way dropped
+it and came bounding back with the other gauntlet.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+I was so disappointed that I hit the poor animal over the head with the
+butt of the whip. He gave a little howl of pain, and retreating some
+distance, sat down with a reproachful look toward me that cut me to the
+heart. Then I called him to me again, petted and stroked him for a
+while, and went through the motions of chopping with an ax, but for a
+long time he did not seem to understand. I kept pointing and shouting:
+“The ax—fetch it,” when all of a sudden he bounded away with a loud
+bark, seized the ax-handle with his teeth, and dragging it inch by inch,
+dropped it at my feet.
+</p>
+
+<hr>
+
+<p>
+Getting to a sitting posture I soon made the chips fly, while Jim danced
+around me barking with delight. It was not long before I had cut the log
+in two, as near my imprisoned leg as I dared, and it was then an easy
+matter, using the ax-handle as a lever, to pry it free. But my plight
+was still a desperate one, for when I tried to move, I found, as I
+expected, that my leg was broken a little above the ankle.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+I had a smattering of surgery, having been instructed in “first aid to
+the wounded,” which is part of the education of a Mounted Policeman;
+this stood me in good stead in this emergency. Having the ax, I was able
+to fashion a few rude splints with which, by the aid of strips torn from
+my shirt, I contrived to set and bandage the fracture.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+This having been accomplished, I essayed to crawl toward the shack,
+which stood at no great distance; but the pain I endured in the passage
+forced many a groan from between my set teeth—Jim licking my hands and
+face every time I was forced to stop from pain and exhaustion. At last,
+however, I managed to reach the door and crawled within. My cot was a
+low wire spring affair, and I just managed to drag myself to it when,
+for the first time in my life, I fainted....
+</p>
+
+<p>
+How long I remained unconscious I do not know. When I awoke, the moon
+was shining in at my open door, and Jim lay asleep by my side. It must
+have been cold with the door wide open, but as I did not feel it, I must
+have been very feverish. I know I longed for a drink of water but was
+quite unable to move. My leg felt as if paralyzed and I lay there on my
+back until daylight trying to figure a way out. I must have help or I
+should undoubtedly cash in, as they say in the West. For that purpose it
+was necessary to get word to town, or to someone who could come to my
+assistance; but how was I to send word? That was the puzzle, and again I
+felt that it was not good for man to be alone.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then I thought of the dog. Jim had already saved my life once; could he
+do so again? I resolved to try him—it was my one and only chance; and
+so, when it was light enough to see, I found the back of an old letter
+and the stump of a carpenter’s pencil in my waistcoat pocket, for I had
+not been able to remove my clothes. I managed to write and sign an
+appeal for help, describing my condition and the location of my
+homestead. This I wrapped in a piece of my torn shirt and tied the
+packet around Jim’s neck, fastening it to his collar in such a way as
+would readily attract attention, yet at the same time not be likely to
+come loose. In such an event, though, I believed the intelligent brute
+would have taken the packet in his mouth and laid it at the feet of the
+first person he met.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+I did not doubt that help would come; if my appeal was received, even by
+an Indian, he would be sure to take it to the nearest agency or Police
+post, even if he did not understand a word of the writing. I had very
+little hope, of course, that my four-footed messenger could be made to
+understand what I wanted him to do—but I had no other resource.
+</p>
+
+<hr>
+
+<p>
+Before driving him away I repeated often the two words, “George” and
+“Home,” at the same time pointing through the open door in the direction
+of the trail to town. George was my old troop chum, and was just about
+as fond of the dog as I was.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+For a long time I could not get Jim to leave me, until I sat up in bed,
+pretending to be very angry, and threw my boots at him. Then he trotted
+away a few hundred yards, stopped and looked back expectantly; but when,
+instead of calling him back, I again yelled “Go home” in the fiercest
+voice I could assume, he reluctantly started on again, and finally
+disappeared.
+</p>
+
+<hr>
+
+<p>
+For a long time I expected every minute to see my faithful companion
+poke his head into the door again, but as hour after hour went by and
+there was no sign of his return, I was forced to the joyful conclusion
+that he had indeed understood what was wanted of him, and was on his way
+to bring help.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+How I got through that terrible day I do not know. I had had nothing to
+eat or drink for about thirty hours; my head was aching excruciatingly;
+my throat was parched and burning, and I knew I was in a high state of
+fever. Looking back afterward, I believe I must have been suffering from
+delirium.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+At length darkness settled down, and I knew the dog must have gone on,
+or he would have been back long ago. Then I racked my brain trying to
+figure out how long it would be before help could come. Toward morning I
+thought I heard a dog barking in the distance, but put it down to a
+disordered brain, for my head continued to ache most dreadfully and my
+tongue seemed to be too large for my mouth. Then I fell asleep, and
+dreamed that poor old Jim was sitting on my chest crushing the life out
+of me.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In my struggle to throw him off I awoke. It was broad daylight, and the
+first object I saw was Jim standing on his hindlegs with his forepaws on
+the edge of my cot, licking my face as he used to do when he thought it
+was near Reveille and time for me to get up.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But my joy at seeing him was turned to fury when my eyes lighted upon
+his collar. There was my desperate appeal for help tied around his neck
+just as it was when I had sent him forth! I wrenched the packet away,
+almost choking him in my rage, and with a piece of wood I picked off the
+floor I dealt him a blow on the head that stretched the poor dog
+senseless.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+I was mad with fever or I never would have done it. I sat staring at the
+packet in my hand, and was just about to tear the paper up and cast it
+away when I noticed the writing was in ink and in a neat clerkly hand,
+whereas I had written with a broad carpenter’s pencil. For a moment, in
+my semi-delirious condition, I was lost in wonder at this transformation;
+then suddenly the truth flashed upon me. Tremblingly, I smoothed the
+paper out, and this is what I read: <i>“Cheer up, old chap. We are
+starting to bring you help as soon as we can round up the doc. On the
+off chance that he may reach you before we do, I am sending this back by
+old Jim.—George.”</i>
+</p>
+
+<p>
+“My God!” I cried in sorrow, as I reached over, gathered the faithful
+dog up in my arms and kissed his cold muzzle. “Poor old Jim, you saved
+my life twice in forty-eight hours, and I rewarded you with a blow like
+that!”
+</p>
+
+<hr>
+
+<p>
+When the doctor and two Mounted Policemen drove up an hour later, they
+found me delirious, with the dog in my arms licking away my tears, while
+I kissed and cried over him, they said, as if he had been a child.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+I may add that I got well and secured the title to my homestead in due
+time, that old Jim helped me to put in my residence duties; and when he
+died a few years ago, of old age, I put up a slab at his grave inscribed
+as follows:
+</p>
+
+<p class='tac mb07 mt10 ni'>
+JIM
+</p>
+<p class='tac mb10 ni'>
+A faithful dog, the friend and
+companion of many years.
+</p>
+
+<div class='tn'>
+[Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in the January 1927 issue of
+The Blue Book Magazine.]
+</div>
+
+<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75013 ***</div>
+</body>
+</html>
+
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