of 



responded in a most friendly manner, and had 

 raced, jumped, circled, and barked; at last he 

 had carried her slowly, proudly on his back. 



I grew greatly interested in his biography, 

 and wondered what could have shaped his life 

 so strangely. In what kind of a home was his 

 pretty puppyhood spent? Why was he so indif- 

 ferent to dogs and people, and had he left or 

 lost a master? 



Early next spring, after vainly trying to fol- 

 low the trail of explorer Pike, I struck out on a 

 road that led me across the Wet Mountain val- 

 ley up into Sangre de Cristo Mountains. When 

 well up into the mountains, I saw a large dog 

 walking slowly toward me, and at once recog- 

 nized him as Rob. Although clean and well-fed, 

 he held his head low and walked as though dis- 

 couraged. The instant he scented me, however, 

 he leaped forward and greeted me with many a 

 wag, bark, and leap. He was one hundred miles 

 from Leadville, and fully three hundred miles 

 from the flood scene on the Poudre. He faced 

 about and followed me up into the alpine heights, 

 far beyond trail. We saw a number of deer and 



101 



