The Last of the Plainsmen 



Sounder wagged his bushy tail and looked up affec 

 tionately at Frank. He had a fine head, great brown 

 eyes, very long ears and curly brownish-black hair. 

 He was not demonstrative, looked rather askance 

 at Jones, and avoided the other dogs. 



&quot; That dog will make a great lion-chaser,&quot; said 

 Jones, decisively, after his study of Sounder. &quot; He 

 and Moze will keep us busy, once they learn we want 

 lions.&quot; 



&quot; I don t believe any dog-trainer could teach them 

 short of six months,&quot; replied Frank. &quot; Sounder is 

 no spring chicken; an that black and dirty white 

 cross between a cayuse an a barb-wire fence is an 

 old dog. You can t teach old dogs new tricks.&quot; 



Jones smiled mysteriously, a smile of conscious 

 superiority, but said nothing. 



&quot; We ll shore hev a storm to-morrow,&quot; said Jim, 

 relinquishing his pipe long enough to speak. He had 

 been silent, and now his meditative gaze was on the 

 west, through the cabin window, where a dull after 

 glow faded under the heavy laden clouds of night 

 and left the horizon dark. 



I was very tired when I lay down, but so full of 

 excitement that sleep did not soon visit my eyelids. 

 The talk about buffalo, wild-horse hunters, lions and 

 dogs, the prospect of hard riding and unusual adven 

 ture ; the vision of Old Tom that had already begun 



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