Beagles 147 



He was my property between 1889 and his death 

 some three years later. He was a small dog, 

 scarcely thirteen inches, and utterly lacking in 

 substance. He had a badly pinched muzzle, 

 small bone and a color, nearly all black, which 

 was unattractive; yet he possessed what might 

 be called the type qualities to a conspicuous 

 degree. He had perfect eyes and expression, a 

 good, hard coat and a brush just right in length 

 and texture. He was owned by Mr. Krueger at 

 one time, but afterwards went to Michigan where 

 I obtained him. 



Riot was a queer little beast. He was entirely 

 useless in the field, being incurably gun-shy. He 

 had a nose so exquisite that he astonished the old 

 rabbit-hound owners down on the Eastern Shore 

 of Maryland where I kept him. The coldest trail 

 had no puzzles for him, and his voice was as mellow 

 as a French horn. His gun-shyness did not ap- 

 pear to result exactly from fright, but he treated 

 the noise rather as if it were disagreeable. He 

 would hunt with zest until a gun went off. Then, 

 without lowering his brush or appearing to be in 

 the least alarmed, he would quickly turn around 

 and trot off home. I also owned Frank Forest's 

 sister, Dolly, a charming little hound. When I 

 gave up my beagles. Riot and Dolly were left 

 on the Eastern Shore, and I am told that their 

 descendants, now sadly degenerate with plebeian 



