The Little Lady of The Big House by Jack London Chapter 9 Page 8

“Oh, anything, old man.”

“English? — Australian? — McClellan? — Mexican?” Dick insisted.

“McClellan, if it’s no trouble,” Graham surrendered.

They sat their horses by the side of the road and watched the last of the herd beginning its long journey to Chili disappear around the bend.

“I see what you’re doing — it’s great,” Graham said with sparkling eyes. “I’ve fooled some myself with the critters, when I was a youngster, down in the Argentine. If I’d had beef-blood like that to build on, I mightn’t have taken the cropper I did.”

“But that was before alfalfa and artesian wells,”