Billy, the Dog That Made Good 
The dogs, however, were the interesting part of 
the pursuit. Three kinds were needed: exquisite 
trailers whose noses could follow with sureness the 
oldest, coldest trail; swift runners for swift game, 
and intelligent fighters. The fighters had, of course, 
to be brave, but intelligence was more important, 
for the dogs are expected to nip at the bayed 
quarry from behind and spring back from his 
counter blow rather than to close at final grips. 
Thus there were bloodhounds and greyhounds as 
well as a bulldog in the Yancy pack, and of course, 
as always happens in a community of diverse bloods, 
there were some half-castes whose personal worth 
had given them social prestige, and was accepted 
as an offset to doubtful pedigree. Most of the 
pack had marked personality. There was Croaker, 
a small lady hound with an exquisite nose and a 
miserable little croak for a bay. You could not 
hear her fifty feet away, but fortunately Big Ben 
was madly in love with her; he followed her every- 
where and had a voice like the bell for which he was 
named. He always stuck close to Croaker and 
translated her feeble whispers into tones that all 
the world within a mile or two could understand. 
Then there was Old Thunder, a very old, very 
brave dog, with a fine nose. He was a combination 
of all good gifts and had been through many fights, 
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