| Author: | Ralph Connor | ISBN: | 1230000148901 |
| Publisher: | WDS Publishing | Publication: | July 7, 2013 |
| Imprint: | Language: | English |
| Author: | Ralph Connor |
| ISBN: | 1230000148901 |
| Publisher: | WDS Publishing |
| Publication: | July 7, 2013 |
| Imprint: | |
| Language: | English |
The Ottawa, tawny and turbulent with spring freshets, rolled majestic, full bank to bank, and flooding the flats, marooning the great elms which stood guard over a little old solidly built log cabin. From across the river upon a curving line of hills the sunset fell in a glow of purple and gold. High upon a cut bank, jutting over the backwater of the overflow, a girl stood outlined against the purple of the hills, slender, lithe, exquisitely formed with soft girlish curves, yet firmly erect upon shapely legs, whose beautiful contours the playful wind clearly revealed. The sunlight turned the little curls of bobbed hair into a tangle of red gold, a striking foil to the transparent clarity of her skin. The face beautifully modelled into lines of strength and tenderness was gloriously lit up by eyes that seemed to catch the flying color from the bunch of blue wood violets at her breast, the same blue, with darker iris rims. A picture of rare loveliness she stood, strength, high courage in her pose, and in her eyes the lure and witchery that is supposed to make men mad.
"Good boy, Paddy! Stick to it old chap." The voice rang out clear and vibrant.
The girl was encouraging a yearling Irish setter pup in a struggle to land a branch of a tree from the river. Cheered on by his mistress the pup pulled and hauled, growling savagely the while, and finally landed the booty.
"Good old boy! Not afraid of water, eh? Fine! Time for home Paddy. Come along."
Paddy frisked and gambolled in a state of high triumph, and ended by leaping up at the girl with his paws on her frock.
"Down Paddy, you beast!" she cried, bringing her leash sharply down upon his nose. The answering howl brought swift penitence.
"Oh Paddy darling! So sorry!" Her arms went round Paddy now wriggling ecstatically his forgiveness. "You have made a mess of me, Paddy, but no matter. Come along! Away you go. I'll race you to the fence."
Like the wind Paddy was away, and like the wind his mistress was after him arriving at the fence in a dead heat.
The fence was an old-fashioned structure of cedar logs built end to end with a cap rail on top. A quick scramble and the girl was over, leaving the puppy behind.
"Ha ha! Fooled you there, Paddy. Come on! Find your own way out. Oh, you great baby!" she cried, taunting him as he began to whine. "Come along till you find a hole," she said setting off up the muddy road, while Paddy whimpering kept leaping at the fence in vain efforts to make exit from the field.
"Oh come on baby!" cried the girl, running along the road. "There are plenty of holes. Don't be a whining quitter." The square little chin carried high was sufficient indication that its owner was no quitter. At length a hole was found and the pup came dashing after his mistress.
Down the road meeting them came a flock of sheep in charge of a supernaturally wise and patient collie. Paddy dashed forward with a joyous bark.
The Ottawa, tawny and turbulent with spring freshets, rolled majestic, full bank to bank, and flooding the flats, marooning the great elms which stood guard over a little old solidly built log cabin. From across the river upon a curving line of hills the sunset fell in a glow of purple and gold. High upon a cut bank, jutting over the backwater of the overflow, a girl stood outlined against the purple of the hills, slender, lithe, exquisitely formed with soft girlish curves, yet firmly erect upon shapely legs, whose beautiful contours the playful wind clearly revealed. The sunlight turned the little curls of bobbed hair into a tangle of red gold, a striking foil to the transparent clarity of her skin. The face beautifully modelled into lines of strength and tenderness was gloriously lit up by eyes that seemed to catch the flying color from the bunch of blue wood violets at her breast, the same blue, with darker iris rims. A picture of rare loveliness she stood, strength, high courage in her pose, and in her eyes the lure and witchery that is supposed to make men mad.
"Good boy, Paddy! Stick to it old chap." The voice rang out clear and vibrant.
The girl was encouraging a yearling Irish setter pup in a struggle to land a branch of a tree from the river. Cheered on by his mistress the pup pulled and hauled, growling savagely the while, and finally landed the booty.
"Good old boy! Not afraid of water, eh? Fine! Time for home Paddy. Come along."
Paddy frisked and gambolled in a state of high triumph, and ended by leaping up at the girl with his paws on her frock.
"Down Paddy, you beast!" she cried, bringing her leash sharply down upon his nose. The answering howl brought swift penitence.
"Oh Paddy darling! So sorry!" Her arms went round Paddy now wriggling ecstatically his forgiveness. "You have made a mess of me, Paddy, but no matter. Come along! Away you go. I'll race you to the fence."
Like the wind Paddy was away, and like the wind his mistress was after him arriving at the fence in a dead heat.
The fence was an old-fashioned structure of cedar logs built end to end with a cap rail on top. A quick scramble and the girl was over, leaving the puppy behind.
"Ha ha! Fooled you there, Paddy. Come on! Find your own way out. Oh, you great baby!" she cried, taunting him as he began to whine. "Come along till you find a hole," she said setting off up the muddy road, while Paddy whimpering kept leaping at the fence in vain efforts to make exit from the field.
"Oh come on baby!" cried the girl, running along the road. "There are plenty of holes. Don't be a whining quitter." The square little chin carried high was sufficient indication that its owner was no quitter. At length a hole was found and the pup came dashing after his mistress.
Down the road meeting them came a flock of sheep in charge of a supernaturally wise and patient collie. Paddy dashed forward with a joyous bark.
