Old Man's Boy Grows Up

by Robert Ruark

  After I wrapped my old friend in a bathrobe and put him in the earth the Guardia Civil man and I came back to the house and had a drink to the dog. The Guardia Civil looked around at the working room with the big fireplace, with some African game heads on the wall.

  “He was a good dog,” the carabinero said. “A good person. He lived a good life in a good house.”

  I reckon the Old Man wouldn’t have minded that as an epitaph for himself.

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