by the treacherous garden help Manuel.
uck did not read the newspapers, or he would have known that
trouble was brewing, not just for himself, but for every dog that
was strong of muscle and with warm, long hair, from Puget Sound
to San Diego. Because men, groping in the Arctic darkness, had found a
yellow metal, and because steamship and transportation companies were
booming the find, thousands of men were rushing into the Northland.
These men wanted dogs, and the dogs they wanted were heavy dogs,
with strong muscles by which to toil, and furry coats to protect them
Buck lived at a big house in the sun-kissed Santa Clara Valley.
Judge Miller's place, it was called. It stood back from the road, half hidden
among the trees, through which glimpses could be caught of the wide
cool veranda that ran around its four sides. The house was approached by
gravelled driveways which wound about through widespreading lawns
more spacious scale than at the front. There were great stables, where a
dozen grooms and boys held forth, rows of vine-clad servants' cottages,
an endless line of outhouses, long grape arbours, green pastures, orchards,
his kidnapping
,
from the frost.
under the boughs of tall poplars. At the back, things were on an even
and berry patches. Then there was the pumping plant for the well
, and
the big cement tank where Judge Miller's boys took their morning plunge
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