CHAPTER V 



OAK SPRING 



MOZE and Don and Sounder straggled into 

 camp next morning, hungry, footsore and 

 scarred; and as they limped in, Jones met 

 them with characteristic speech: &quot; Well, you decided 

 to come in when you got hungry and tired? Never&quot; 

 thought of how you fooled me, did you ? Now, the 

 first thing you get is a good licking.&quot; 



He tied them in a little log pen near the cabin and 

 whipped them soundly. And the next few days, 

 while Wallace and I rested, he took them out sepa 

 rately and deliberately ran them over coyote and deer 

 trails. Sometimes we heard his stentorian yell as a 

 forerunner to the blast from his old shotgun. Then 

 again we heard the shots unheralded by the yell. 

 Wallace and I waxed warm under the collar over 

 this peculiar method of training dogs, and each of 

 us made dire threats. But in justice to their implaca 

 ble trainer, the dogs never appeared to be hurt; 

 never a spot of blood flecked their glossy coats, nor 

 did they ever come home limping. Sounder grew 

 wise, and Don gave up, but Moze appeared not to 

 change. 



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