174 THE FOGY DAYS AND NOW ; 



hot trail, when he'd spring to his feet and shout out, "h-e-r-e 

 h-e— w-e-nt," wake up all the balance of the pack, and have 

 them charging around looking for the game; then he would 

 look ashamed of himself, walk off sorter grinning like, hunt an- 

 other place, and lie down again. 



If Troup thought he knew where he could start a buck, or 

 wanted to go a hunting, he would come to me and whine and 

 frisk, and wag his tail, and look off toward the mountains, in the 

 direction he thought the deer was ; and if I couldn't go, I'd 

 just tell him so, and then he would look disappointed, and if 

 he felt he couldn't stand it, he'd go and wake up the pack; and 

 if they were too lazy, why he'd just go by himself, pick out a 

 good sized buck and run him clean to water. 



Troup was a philosopher and an economist. If he thought 

 he was going to have a long run, he would economise his wind 

 — he'd only open about every quarter of a mile, just enough to 

 let it be known he was coming down to his business. This old 

 dog caught in the Blue Ridge mountains sixteen deer, that 

 never had a shot-hole in them ; and old Jeff broke one of his 

 fore legs running a deer. I splinted it up, and he went out 

 again and broke the other leg, and walked home three 

 miles on his hind legs, and for months he walked about the 

 yard on those two legs. It's a fact. My wife gays she has 

 seen him do it a many a time, and she will tell anybody so. 



But we started to tell about an olden time fox chase. We 

 have been in so many — hardly know which one to tell about : 

 Our old time dogs couldn't speak English, but they could listen, 

 and heard every word we said, and knew just what we 

 said, and what we wanted. 



I'll give this one. We were to meet at Warr's old field, 

 which lay between the present town of Seneca, S. C, and the 



