Just like when some one's dead that
you set a heap on and you feel you'd give most everything you got to
see 'em again for a minute. There ain't nothin' you wouldn't promise
if by doin' it you could hear a feller hail you--just one shout--as he
comes ridin' up the trail."
"That was how Jim Cockrell felt when he prayed for the dog," said the
tall man.
"Did he get the dog?"
He nodded.
"That's what he said anyway. He was took with just such a lonesome
spell once when he was trapping in the Mandans country. He was a pious
critter, great on prayer and communing with the Lord. And he
felt--I've heard him tell about it--just as if he'd go wild if he
didn't get something for company. What he wanted was a dog and you
might just as well want an angel out there with nothin' but the Indian
villages breakin' the dazzle of the snow and you as far away from them
as you could get. But that didn't stop Jim. He just got down and
prayed, and then he waited and prayed some more and 'ud look around for
the dog, as certain he'd come as that the sun 'ud set. Bimeby he fell
asleep and when he woke there was the dog, a little brown varmint,
curled up beside him on the blanket.
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