“If it’s a question of price—” urged the puzzled man.
“Price?” snarled McGilead, turning on him in senile fury. “Price? There’s only one price. And I’ve paid it. I won’t judge at your show! I’ll never judge again at any show! My judging days are over! I’m a dead one! I’m an old, old man, I tell you! I’m in my dotage! I—why, I couldn’t even trust myself, any more, to judge squarely. I’m through!”
SIX: Lochinvar Bobby
SIX: Lochinvar Bobby
When the first Angus Mackellar left his ancestral Lochbuy moors he brought to America the big, shaggy, broad-headed collie dog he loved—the dog that had helped him herd his employer’s sheep for the past five years.
Man and dog landed at Castle Garden a half century ago. From that time on, as for three hundred years earlier, no member of the Mackellar family was without a collie; the best and wisest to be found.
Evolution narrowed the heads and lightened the stocky frames of these collies, as the decades crawled past.