Billy, the Dog That Made Good 
sponsible exuberance of puppyhood is ended. 
And though destined to a place among his master’s 
hunting dogs, he, it was judged, was not yet ripe 
enough. 
Bob Yancy was a hunter, a professional—there 
are a few left—and his special line was killing Bears, 
Mountain Lions, Lynxes, Wolves, and other such 
things classed as “‘ varmints” and for whose destruc- 
tion the state pays a bounty, and he was ever ready 
to increase the returns by ‘‘taking out” amateur 
hunters who paid him well for the privilege of being 
present. 
Much of this hunting was done on the high level 
of “the chase.” The morning rally, the far cast 
for a trail, the warming hunt, the hot pursuit, and 
the finish with a more or less thrilling fight. That 
was ideal. But it was seldom fully realized. The 
mountains were too rough. The game either ran 
off altogether, or, by crossing some impossible 
barrier, got rid of the hunters and then turned on 
the dogs to scatter them in flight. 
That was the reason for the huge Bear traps 
that were hanging in Yancy’s barn. Those dread- 
ful things would not actually hold the Bear a pris- 
oner, but when with a convenient log they were 
gripped on his paw, they held him back so that the 
hunters, even on foot, could overtake the victim. 
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