62 THE AMERICAN FOXHOUND 



and crossed them as best I could, breeding upon the idea of the 

 survival of the fittest, and have since that time made several 

 crosses v^ith the English, the Kentucky dog, known as the 

 Goodman, and with an Irish hound, that was bought and owned 

 by a man in Madison county. Finally Fleet and Raum were 

 produced, from whom sprang Callie Gates, the greatest fox- 

 hound in my judgement the world ever knew, together with 

 many others that have followed down through my kennel. 



My dogs are all black and white with tan points, they hunt 

 like pointers, run for blood, have cold, quick noses, and know no 

 quit. I have hunted all the various strains of dogs, and have 

 owned them from nearly every important kennel in the U. S., 

 and I don't believe that there is a strain of dogs living that are 

 as good all-round red fox dogs as the Wild Goose strain. 



Now as to their name ; when I owned the ancestors of Callie 

 Gates, I had a pack that I believed could catch anything that 

 could not fly. They all had peculiar, soft, quick notes. One day 

 I was hunting together with Col. Robert Gates, and had been 

 troubled, and discussed with him a name for my pack. We 

 started an old traveller, as I suppose, who made a bee-line 

 twenty miles away. We being well mounted, and having some 

 puppies that we did not want to lose, followed. We were able 

 to follow on enquiring from house to house, as the fox ran as the 

 crow flies. Finally we came to an immense swamp, with horses 

 worn out, where we met a huntsman with a long rifle sitting be- 

 hind a big tree, as if watching for something. I enquired of 

 him if he had heard our dogs. He said, 'No, but there's the 

 damnedest gang of wild geese flying round in that swamp that 

 I've ever heard,' that he had been there for two hours trying to 

 get a shot at them, and asked us to listen. We pulled our horses 

 round, and could hear our pack in full cry, when the stranger 

 said, 'Those are the wild geese.' We hollowed a time or two, 

 tlie fox left the swamp, and was overtaken in a few minutes. 

 We got to the dogs and found one of the largest red foxes it has 

 ever been my fortune to see. Callie Gates and her brother, 

 Stonewall Jackson, were just ten months old. They both staid 

 in the race and were at the death. On our way home Col. Gates 

 said, 'Lewis, that fellow has furnished the name for our pack. 

 Let's call it the Wild Goose.' 



Now, Doctor, pardon me for mentioning some of the peculiari- 

 ties of Callie Gates. From that day, it being her first race, she 



