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 any 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 strong 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 would succumb to the chewing and shaking that the little 



