AFIELD WITH THE DOG 
BY CHARLES H. MORTON 
Mr. Morton, in this charmingly fatth{ul sketch, has succeeded in telling the story 
of almost every lover of upland game bird-shooting ‘that resides in one of the smaller 
cities, towns or villages. 
Furthermore, he has pictured, as perhaps it has never been 
done before, the vital fellowship of the true-blue sportsman and his dog.—Ep. 
E ARRIVED without 
parade from Mercer, 
Pa., in a small box— 
for he was a small dog. 
§w| The friend who sent 
him enclosed the pedi- 
gree in a letter... The 
u“——' letter stated that while 
he was une ae of regal blood and the 
best of the pointer strain, still I must 
remember that bringing up a _bird-dog 
_ puppy through the different and calamitous 
stages of distemper, ruined washings, torn 
door mats, murdered chickens and “lost- 
dog”? episodes was trying on the nerves, 
expensive and of little personal benefit. 
I promised to hold him guiltless of motives 
beyond those of friendship, and the Dog 
became a responsible member of the 
household—and I became responsible for 
the Dog. 
Of course he was a nuisance. He was 
certainly “bad medicine” on washdays, 
and he hid his extra bones down deep in the 
geranium beds. Imprisoned in a big 
yard, he had nothing to do but plan little 
surprises and triumphantly execute them. 
His “disappearing act” was the top-liner. 
One hot day he sought coolness and 
seclusion in the cistern by gnawing into a 
rotten stringer and worming his little body 
through the hole and down into two feet 
of cold water. ‘The cistern was almost dry 
and the kitchen feed-pipe uncovered, and 
so the cook suddenly left her sanctum 
“account of de way dat pump was squallin’” 
at her. It was certainly remarkable. 
Something must be in the cistern. We 
investigated hastily; something was there. 
The pump was sitting on the brick filter 
making shrill noises which, magnified by the 
pent-up space, resembled the trumpetings of 

mad elephants. Simultaneously we missed 
the pup, but his absence was accounted for 
by the menagerie imitations from below; 
so we unroofed the cistern, borrowed a 
ladder and brought him out. Later on 
he demonstrated the futility of fences by 
clambering up the wood-pile and falling 
into the alley with a heavy grunt. The 
neighborhood was aroused and searched, 
the usual “lost-dog” notice telephoned to 
three newspapers, and four spurious dogs 
were captured by jubilant urchins and 
brought struggling for our inspection. 
Toward evening the pup came out from 
under the front porch and wanted his 
supper. 
Having thus convinced us that “home- 
keeping hearts are happiest”? he was al- 
lowed more freedom, thus learning dog 
ways and manners and getting thrashed by 
big, rough dogs. He seemingly enjoyed 
it, for in all his brave little body there was 
no drop of coward blood. Distemper 
passed him mercifully by, but obnoxious 
lessons at noon and on Sundays filled him 
with wrath. That he should drop flat at a 
cross command was a mystery, but he was 
recompensed in a way for the trouble by 
very small bits of meat. Fetching things 
was better, and like play, only he must do 
thus and so and never bite. 
So he grew to be a big, ungainly pup, 
with lanky, interfering limbs and a warm, 
generous, misplaced disposition that led © 
him to welcome cordially the unwelcome 
tramp and chase the grocer’s boy off the 
premises. With a strenuous devotion to 
playtime and mealtime, with healthful 
slumber and robust strength, the pup 
whiled away the days until behold! the 
Dog arrives and the pup is gone forever. 
From the white star in his beautiful 
