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most, than himself. By the hour he will 

 tell you tales of them Music and Damsel. 

 Days through, they run at his heels ; nights 

 through, they watch outside his door. Price- 

 less both, though the one is but a lurching 

 mongrel, the other a cross - bred hound. 

 Dogs of renown both, spite such blots of the 

 scutcheon. Music is the better coon dog, 

 Damsel has no equal for trailing a possum. 

 Both have the finest keen noses, able to pick 

 up the faintest scent, and trail the quarry 

 hot-foot to his lair. 



Very often one is taken, the other left at 

 guard. Naturally they hate each the other 

 with deadly dog-fury. Music has laid his 

 two paws over his master's feet, put his head 

 between them, is quivering through and 

 through, giving out the while little, low, pite- 

 ous whimpers, his plea not to be left behind. 

 At sound of it Damsel, whose name belies his 

 sex, growls slightly, beats the earth more 

 vigorously with his tail, then rises, trots a 

 little way down the path, looking back over 

 his shoulder to see if he is followed. Now 

 he stops short, slinks backward half a rod. 

 The cabin door shuts to with a great bang 

 Daddy stands fair in the light, with Music 

 still glued to his heels, but uttering quick, 

 joyful yelps. A breath's space Damsel lis- 



