2 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
tJULY 6, 1901. 
By CUfty Creek. 
F By Clifty Creek in this lone wood 
I'm Nature's charmed and honored guest. 
Por rae she decks her maidenhood 
In colors bright and loveliest; 
For me her song birds tune their throats, 
And warble blithesome, sweetest lays; 
While o'er it all a memory floats 
Of cherished bygone days — 
Of days when these cool, limpid pools, 
And these bright, laughing ripples free. 
Sang me a song not learned in schools. 
Of faith and hope and constancy. 
Ah I that was years and years gone by. 
But as I lingering list to-day. 
They sing the same old glad refrain — 
They'll sing it on and on for aye. 
CoLUMBTJS, Ind. Wm. J. Beck. 
Old Duke. 
It was the hottest part of a hot August day. The sun 
heat down from a sky of brass, overhead upon the dry, 
arid plain, sending back great waves of quivering, scorch- 
ing heat; the earth seemed transformed into a vast fiery 
furnace, and the creatures of the plains gladly sought the 
meager protection afforded by the scanty shade of the 
scraggly mesquit or the spreading cottonwood. It was 
therefore no wonder that the ever inquisitive prairie dogs 
poked their heads out of doors, half-curious, half-alarmed, 
as the quick thud, thud, thud of light hoof beats on the 
hard ground, like the distant tattoo of a drum, told them 
that in spite of the overpowering heat danger was abroad, 
and that some animal was fleeing for its life. 
The prairie dogs dodged back into their holes as a herd 
of panting, half-exhausted antelope swept by with their 
tongues lolling from their mouths and their wide expanded 
nostrils showing red as blood, while their breath came in 
short, wheezing gasps through their parched throats. 
They disappeared over the next rise, heading in the direc- 
tion of Sweetwater Creek, and scarcely were they lost to 
view when another creature appeared in sight following fast 
on their trail, and the cause of their wild flight through 
the terrible heat became apparent. The pursuer was a 
huge Scotch staghound. He ran with his head well up. 
covering the ground with mighty bounds with a speed 
known only to his kind. He looked neither to the right 
nor to the left, but ever straight ahead in the line of the 
antelopes' flight, panting heavily as he ran, and it was 
ea.sy to see that the strain of the chase was beginning to 
tell 'on him as on the ones he was pursuing. 
He had been running for two long hours, and would 
gladly have given up the exhausting struggle, but his 
master had commanded him, and it was his duty to fol- 
low the trail until called off, or until he could run no 
more. To him it seemed a cruel thing to ask a dog to run 
on such a day. If it were only a wolf — one of h's mortal 
enemies — that was leading him this chase, there would be 
some consolation in it, but to "run antelope in such weather 
seemed not only foolish, but criminal and unsportsmaii- 
like as well. It might be sport for his master to watch this 
race of death, but it was cruel sport at best, appealing to 
his master alone. The hound's strong limbs worked 
automatically as he sped over the ground with the same 
unbroken stride. The scorching sun beat down upon 
him, the suffocating waves of heat smote him in the face 
and parched his throat and half-blinded him; still he ran 
on. Oh, for a drink of fresh, cold water to quench the 
thirst that consumed him ! As if in answer to his prayer 
the trail led down into a hollow where, at certain seasons 
of the year, a noisy gtream was wont to flow. The course 
of the channel was now marked merely by a dry, rock- 
strewn gully, but in the shelter of a high bank there 
still remained a shallow pool of stagnant water. The 
antelope had paused here to drink and had trampled the 
pool and fouled the water, but to the thristy staghound 
the miry puddle that was left was gratefully welcomed 
and proved his salvation. He lapped up the fetid water 
eagerly, and then dropped to the ground in the scanty 
shade of a small, crooked mesquit tree for a brief respite 
from the killing run. 
He rested but a moment, and again took up the trail. 
As he left the hollow and mounted the next rise, he 
commanded a wide view of the plain before him. and 
there, not a quarter of a mile away, he espied his quarry. 
The antelope had paused to look back, thinking, no 
doubt, that their relentless enemy had at last wearied of 
the chase, but as the hound appeared in sight they sped 
away and the never-ending race began anew. Gradually 
one of the herd, a young buck, dropped behind the 
others, unable to longer endure the killing pace. It was 
a terrible struggle that followed. The young buck,_ worn 
out and exhausted, made a mighty effort to regain the 
herd, bitt his tired limbs would not_ respond. The stag- 
hound drew nearer and nearer, running unsteadily, all his 
strength, all his will power brought to his aid in this last 
dash. He closed in on the doomed buck, and with a final 
desperate spring caught the antelope by the throat, and 
together they rolled on the ground. The buck was too 
exhausted to make any resistance. Pie had nm his last 
race, and succumbed to his fate without an effort. The 
hunter and the hunted, both had reached the limit of 
their endurance. The staghound had not the strength to 
rise but lay beside his victim, waiting for the master for 
whom he had striven so hard, at whose command he had 
slain an innocent unoffending creature. 
- The rays of the sett'ng sun lingered for a moment on 
the two forms lying there so still, the living as silent as 
the dead; then the great, red. fiery disk sank below the 
horizon and the scorched earth gave a sigh of relief, glad- 
ly welcoming escape from the withering heat and the 
faintly stirring breezes of the approaching night. As the 
twilight deepened into darkness the moon rose and 
flooded the rolling stretches of sand hill and plain with 
her pale light. The skulking wolf stole forth from his 
hidden lair and sent up his evening serenade to the moon 
before starting on his nightly prowl in search of food. 
The scent of blood from the newly slain antelope was 
borne to his nostrils from afar, and gradually three or 
four shadowy, flitting forms drew near, in answer to the 
sumnions to the fegst and cautiously approached the spot 
where the dead buck lay, half fearful of some hidden 
ambush, or the cold clutch of one of those dreaded traps 
which the hated men creatures ofttimes concealed near 
the. carcass of an animal for the undoing of all unwise, 
unsophisticated wolves. Suddenly a tall, gaunt form rose 
slowly from the shadow where the dead buck lay, and 
the cowardly wolves fled in affright as they recognized the 
form of their most implacable foe. 
The staghound stood for a moment beside the fallen 
buck, and then with tottering, swaying steps started on 
the long, painful journey home. His strength failed him 
ere he had proceeded far, and he sank to the ground with a 
pitiful whine. If he could only reach the pool of stag- 
nant water he felt that he might yet save himself. Half 
crawling, half dragging himself along, he continued on 
his way, until, after what seemed an eternity of suffer- 
ing, he reached the gully and the miry pool only to find 
that some other creature had been there before him and 
drunk the last drop of the precious fluid. The patient 
hound sought the shelter of the mesquit tree, and with a 
last despairing, mournful cry laid himself down to die. 
His cry was answered by the deep-toned baying of a 
hound, sounding faint and far away. As in a dream he 
heard the sound of a horse, hard-ridden, rapidly approach- 
ing, and then a shrill whistle followed by a familiar voice 
shouting his name : 
"Duke! Duke, old fellow! Where are you? Where is 
he, Music? Hunt him out!" 
He gave a weak answering bark, and the next instant 
the cold muzzle of his old friend Music, the big fox 
hound, was thrust in his face, and Old Duke, the best dog 
in the State of Texas, knew that he ^yas saved at last. 
lifi ijc !|b ^ ^ 
At sundown of that same day Harry Reynolds, owner 
of the H Horizontal Bar Ranch (so named from its brand. 
which read H ), threw the saddle over J. C.'s back and 
reckoned he would jog over to the B Diamond Ranch on 
a matter of business. It was only a five-mile ride, but 
owing to the extreme heat he did not hurry his pony, and 
it was dusk w-hen he finally drew rein before the abode of 
his friend, Beardy Miller, owner of the B Diamond 
Ranch. He found that gentleman seated on an upturned 
bucket before the door of his house smoking his Texas 
meerschaum. 
"Howdy, Hal," the latter drawled, rising to his feet 
and extending a huge paw as Reynolds swung himself 
from the saddle and advanced to meet him. "What 
brought you out on such an infernal hot night?" 
"Hello, Beardy!" Harry responded. "Just thought I'd 
ride over and have a talk. How's everything?" 
"Sizzlin', just at present. I fried my bacon on the 
grindstone this evenin', and all our hens are layin' hard- 
boiled eggs. I'm thinkin' of reducin' the cook's wages." 
Harry grined and eyed his friend with an amused ex- 
pression on his handsome face. 
"You're about the hottest looking proposition I've been 
up against this summer," he ob'ierved. 
"I reckon I be.'- said Beardy Miller, complacently. The 
owner of the B Diamond Ranch had rightfully earned his 
sobriquet. He had a great, bushy head of very red 
hair, but the thing that most attracted the attention was 
the profuse growth of the same material that covered his 
face, concealing all his feaures, save his- eyes and nose. 
Luckily for the peace of the community at large, his 
disposition was less fiery than appearances would seem to 
indicate. 
The two men chatted a while over their pipes, and 
Harry had just risen to go when something seemed to 
occur to him. 
"Where's Old Duke?" he inquired. "He generally 
comes to meet me." 
"I left him runnin' a herd of antelope," Beardy Miller 
replied. "I don't reckon he caught 'em, and for all I 
know he's runnin' yet." 
"You don't mean to say you ran the dogs such a day as 
this, do you?" Reynolds cried in amazement. "You must 
be crazy." 
"No ; not all of them — only Old Duke. We was out 
together, and he spotted that old herd and looked to me 
for orders. I couldn't resist seein' a little fun. so I says, 
'Get after 'em,' and of course he got. I followed for a 
spell, but it got too hot, so I come horne, and Duke was 
too far away to hear me when I called him. I reckon he'll 
be along after a bit." 
"He'll wind himself and drop in his tracks, that's^ what 
he'll do," Harry declared, with emphasis, and without 
another word turned away, filled his canteen at the well 
and sprang into the saddle. "Where's the rest of the 
dogs?" he demanded. 
"In the kennel. What you goin' to do?" 
"Go after Old Duke. The moon will be out to-night. 
Let me have one of the dogs." 
" 'Tain't any use " Beardy Miller began. 
"I'm going to try, anyhow," the other interrupted. 
"Let me have Music!" . 
"Oh, all right! If you're dead set on goin'," Beardy 
Miller declared. He knew that when Harry Reynolds 
made up his mind to do a thing arguments were futile. 
He disappeared in the direction of the kennel, and in a 
few moments a large, deep-chested, finely marked fox 
hound came trotting up to Reynolds and looked at him in- 
quiringly. 
"Where did you last seen the antelope?" Harry called 
out to Beardy Miller, impatiently. 
"About a mile up the big hollow. Better strike straight 
across for the divide. They always circle in that direc- 
tion you know." 
"All right; I'll strike their trail. Come oh. Music." He 
Avheeled his pony and started awav at a canter, with 
Music running a little in the lead. "The crazy fool, to run 
a dog on such a day as this." he muttered angrily to him- 
self. 
"He's a queer one." Beardy Miller soliloquized, as he 
reseated himself on the bucket. "But he'll never find Old 
Duke." 
If there was one thing Harry loved more than another 
it was a good horse; next to horses came dogs in his 
affections, and Old Duke, Beardy Miller's Scotch stag- 
hound. was just about his ideal of what a dog should be. 
Swift in the chase, strong in endurance, a brave fighter 
and a staunch friend, and next to a horse a man's best 
companion — that is what a dog should be. Old Duke was 
all of this and more, and Harry said hard things about 
Beardy Miller as he and his two companions hurried 
along "through the gathering darkness on their mission of 
mercy. And just as the full moon appeared above the 
edge of the plain, like some huge lantern hanging in 
the heavens, just as the noble staghound, half-crazed with 
thirst and almost wholly exhausted, began his ineffectual- 
struggle to drag himself home; just then Music strucld 
the trail and proclaimed the news in the rich, vibrant tones]' 
that had gained for him his name, and }. C. pricked upl 
his ears and quickened his pace, ready to perform his" 
share of the work in hand, whatever it might prove to be.» 
Had they followed where the trail led they would have! 
had a long run before them, but Harry knew the ways, 
of this particular herd, that they would double in a wide 
circle and head for the divide, so he called off the hound 
and struck straight across country. He was more fortu- 
nate than he had dared to hope to be in picking up the trail 
again. He was nearing the gully now where the stag- 
hound had paused to drink, when suddenly the mournful 
death cry of the hound sounded faintly far ahead. Music 
sent back the answering cry; J. C. responded to the quick 
spoken word and broke into a run, and Harry gave vent 
to the shout that had reached the ears of the dying stag- 
hound. 
There was a quick scramble through the rocky gully. 
Harry sprang from the saddle while his horse was still 
runnmg, and rushed forward after Music to the crooked 
mesquit tree where Old Duke lay dying of thirst. Ma- 
king a basin of his hat, Harry filled it with water from 
his canteen, and raising the dog's head, supported him 
while the life saving draught trickled down his parched 
throat. 
When he had done everything in his power to relieve 
Old Duke's sufferings, Harry endeavored to coax the.' 
hound to follow him, but all to no avail. Old Duke's^i 
strength was spent ; he made a feeble effort to stand, and 
then sank back with an appealing look which Harry could 
not resist. Stooping, he lifted the big dog in his strong 
arms and placed him across his saddle. Mounting care- 
fully behind him, he held the hound in place, and with a 
word to J. C. started back for the B Diamond Ranch. , 
Beardy Miller had found the house too warm for com- 
fort, and had made his bed out in the open air on the 1 
ground. The approach of the rescuing party awakened | 
him, and he sat up, rubbing his eyes in astonishment as | 
he saw Harry carefully lift Old Duke down and then hur-1 
riedly draw a bucket of water from the well and proceed 
to give the staghound a good bath and a rubbing down. 
"What in thunder are you all doin'?" Beardy Miller at 
last inquired, wonderingly. 
"Trying to save Old Duke's life," the other grunted, in 
response. 
"I thought you gave the hunt up long ago. What's 
wrong with the hound ?" 
"Dead beat and nearly dead for want of water. I don't 
reckon he'll ever run again. If I had him over at my 
place I might pull him through." 
"You don't say he's that bad? I didn't suppose he'd 
run himself to death, but then I ain't used to these yere 
sight dogs. If you want the hound you can have him. I 
reckon you think more of him than I do, and you say 
he's winded so he won't be good for much." 
"All right. _ I'll be glad to have him," Harry re- 
sponded. "He'll do now till morning. I'll ride over 
to-morrow and see how he's getting on. So long." He; 
swung himself into the saddle — this man who was never 
known to get tired — and before the sound of his horse's 
hoof beats had died away in the distance Beardy Miller 
was snoring peacefully; but a tired, worn out staghound 
raised his head, listening until the last faint hoof beat had 
sounded, and then, with a deep breath that was like a 
sigh, his head sank wearily between his paws, and he too 
fell asleep. Fayette Durlin, Jr. 
Companions on Outings. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
Among the interesting discussions in the columns of 
Forest and Stream, little, if anything, has been written as 
to the advisability of taking one's outing alone, or with 
companions. It seems that such a discussion might prove 
interesting and instructive. The novice, at least, might 
profit from reading the experiences of those competent to 
be heard on both sides. 
It must be generally admitted that on outings which take 
one a long distance from home, a congenial companiott 
or two lends a feeling of confidence and security, and 
tends to ward off homesickness. But must not all thisi 
be purchased at the price of unfettered independence?! 
Is the price not worth more than the purchase? 
If one prefers big-game hunting, the employment of thq 
same guide each trip supplies a companion who com.es 
not to be a .stranger. Trips like this allow the widest 
realization of liberty, and completely free one from all 
delicacy of feeling that he might trespass on the rights of 
others. If one desires a few days' canoeing, he has but to 
command and the guide is ready and willing to olaey. If 
camping, in a spot that strikes the fancy, is wished, the 
thought has but to be communicated to the guide and the 
wish is fulfilled. If fishing is desired, just pass the 
word, and the faithful guide is ready. Then, too, one is 
kept clear of companionship that might not prove con- 
genial to him — or vice versa. Then the chances of some 
one being shot by mistake for game are nearly eliminated/ 
and the absence of boisterous excitement brings one's be- 
ing into closer communion with nature and her wonder- 
fid works. I 
It has been truly said and written that "one man knowsi 
another thoroughly only when he has cam.ped with him." 
Where one indulges in an outing with untried companions; 
the success and pleasures of the outing are reduced to the 
chances of a lottery. This, I know, is plain talk, and I 
intend it shall be so. I know of instances where men who 
had known one another for years and been the best of 
friends, became the bitterest enemies on an extended out- 
ing. This could not have happened had each taken his 
outing alone. 
Then there is the question of economy. Some like a 
more expensive outing than others, and what might be 
called economy by some, would be classed as penury by 
others. Economy is all proper enoiigh, but the really 
penurious individual has no business indulging in a fish- 
ing, hunting or yachting outing, for some one has truth- 
fully said, "Such pleasures are among the luxuries of 
life." Penury and the price of luxury cannot travel hand 
in hand. Whether in camp or not. the penurious individual 
is apt to look upon the naturally generous person as 
being demented, and the generous person (rightly, I think> 
