DOGS, AND THEIR CHARACTERISTICS. 359 
him. One time when I had him in Western Iowa, Mr. W. 
H. Phelps, one of the finest shots in the State, saw him 
and came near hurting himself laughing when he found 
out I was going after quail with this dog. On this same 
hunt W. B. Wilcox, since deceased, was my partner for 
u day. In the party there were two blue-blood setters, 
and as they were pets and beautiful animals they re- 
ceived unremitting attention from their owners. Some- 
times I thought Colonel was a little bit jealous, for any 
advances these dogs made toward opening up a friend- 
ship with him were instantly rejected with a sullen 
growl. He lay on the floor of the baggage-car, rolled 
up ina heap; his rough coat was homespun, compared 
with theirs of silken texture, and he seemed to know 
it. At times he would slowly rise to his feet, come to 
me, put his cold nose in my hand, and look me straight 
in the eyes, his great brown ones honestly seeking the 
truth from me, as if asking whether I, too, was going 
to desert him for these false gods. Honest old boy! 
He ought to have known me better. My tender strok- 
ing of his broad forehead, the affectionate patting of 
his stout shoulders, the reassuring smile I gave him 
seemed to soothe his troubled mind, and he lay down 
again, apparently happy, casting on his canine com- 
panions a look of contempt, and showing them his 
gleaming teeth. 
In the fields of Western Iowa there was Waterloo 
that day, and Colonel was a Wellington. I never will 
forget the expression on Wilcox’s face when reaching 
a likely field, he tried to make Colonel “hie on.” 
Before this, I had motioned Colonel to heel. He rec- 
ognized me as his master, and obeyed no other com- 
mand. Wilcox got excited, condemned me for bring- 
