io AN AMERICAN HUNTER 



He had lost his lower fangs, but he was still a most for- 

 midable dog. While we were at the Keystone Ranch 

 a big steer which had been driven in, got on the fight, 

 and the foreman, William Wilson, took Turk out to aid 

 him. At first Turk did not grasp what was expected of 

 him, because all the dogs were trained never to touch 

 anything domestic at the different ranches where we 

 stopped the cats and kittens wandered about, perfectly 

 safe, in the midst of this hard-biting crew of bear and 

 cougar fighters. But when Turk at last realized that 

 he was expected to seize the steer, he did the business 

 with speed and thoroughness; he not only threw the steer, 

 but would have killed it then and there had he not been, 

 with much difficulty, taken away. Three dogs like Turk, 

 in their prime and with their teeth intact, could, I be- 

 lieve, kill an ordinary female cougar, and could hold 

 even a big male so as to allow it to be killed with the 

 knife. 



Next to Turk were two half-breeds between bull and 

 shepherd, named Tony and Baldy. They were exceed- 

 ingly game, knowing-looking little dogs, with a certain 

 alert swagger that reminded one of the walk of some 

 light-weight prize-fighters. In fights with cougars, 

 bears, and lynx, they too had been badly mauled and had 

 lost a good many of their teeth. Neither of the gallant 

 little fellows survived the trip. Their place was taken 

 by a white bulldog bitch, Queen, which we picked up 

 at the Keystone Ranch; a very affectionate and good- 

 humored dog, but, when her blood was aroused, a daunt- 

 less though rather stupid fighter. Unfortunately she did 



