CHAPTER XXVII. 



THE DAYS OF LONG AGO. 



MY DOG AND I RING AND THE HOGS WOODCHUCK HUNTING OLD 

 RING! "THOUGH LOST TO SIGHT TO MEMORY DEAR " ALL IS 

 CHANGED OLD MEMORIES CROWD UPON ME THE OLD LANDMARKS 

 GONE ! THE OLD SPRING THERE IS A TIME FOR TEARS. 



THESE rocks and hills used to be a great resort for the 

 ground hog (Arctomys monax), or "woodchuck," as we then 

 called it. I have killed large numbers of them here. I had 

 a dog that was as fond of hunting as I was. He would 

 "tree" them, and I always went to him when I heard him 

 bark, regardless of distance, state of the weather, or an^ other 

 obstacle. They generally took shelter in the crevices and 

 fissures of these rocks, or in hollow trees or logs. My favorite 

 method of capturing them was to take a piece of stiong cord, 

 and form a loop on the end of a pole. Then running this 

 pole into the hole where the animal was, I would punch him 

 with it until he got mad, and began to bite at it. When I 

 got a " bite " I would pull just as in fishing, and very soon 

 would succeed in catching the loop of string around his front 

 upper teeth, when I had only to haul away until I landed him 

 at my feet, where my dog always stood ready to clinch him. 

 Ring was a small, light-built dog, about one-fourth bull, and 

 the balance just dog. He didn't weigh over twenty pounds, 

 but was a wonderful specimen of pluck. So is an old male 

 ground-hog. We used to have some wonderful fights. We 

 frequently caught ground-hogs as heavy as Ring was, and I 

 I have often seen a fight last half-an-hour before the ground 

 hog wgulc} succumb to the chewing and shaking that the little 



