CHAPTER X 



A COLLIE IN THE DESERT 



TOO bad, Jack, but no one wants you and I 

 can't take care of you," said the express 

 agent as he dumped a shaggy brown 

 puppy out of a crate into the street. 



Jack simply sat for a while. There was 

 nothing for a full-blooded collie to do. No one 

 gave orders. Jack had never been away from 

 his kennel until bought, crated, and shipped to 

 this Arizona village. He was a stranger in a 

 strange land. Two moth-eaten Mexican dogs 

 snarled at him. A boy in passing threw a tin 

 can at him; he dodged and ran to a burro; 

 the burro chased and endeavoured to stamp 

 him. 



I glanced at the address on the crate and 

 then asked the agent, "Who is George Rogers?" 



"George Rogers was sent West to reform his 

 health and his manners. But George did not 

 reform his manners and when his mother shipped 

 him a collie puppy he refused to remove it from 

 the express office. I have cared for the puppy 

 Jack for a few weeks, hoping to give him away. 



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