March, 1919 
FOREST AND STREAM 
123 
A LESSON IN FAITHFULNESS 
THE TATE OF A MAN AND HIS DOG ON THE LONELY, WINDSWEPT MARSHES OF 
THE CHESAPEAKE WHERE WILDFOWL FILL THE AIR WITH SWISH OF WINGS 
By A A. HUTTON 
A Chesapeake Bay dog in action 
T he December 
moon, nearly 
full, and well 
risen, was pouring 
a flood of silver 
light down over 
the old city of An- 
napolis. A light 
snow, which had 
fallen the day be- 
fore, lay glistening 
on the roofs, along 
walls and in scant 
soiled ridges in the 
streets. The air 
was sharp and 
frosty, and off in 
the west there lin- 
gered a faint glow 
against which the 
bare branches of 
the trees showed in 
a lacy fret-work. 
Two men carry- 
ing guns and ac- 
companied by a dog, were walking briskly, 
along Duke of Gloucester street toward 
the bridge over Spa creek where the street 
terminates. They were bound for the shore 
of the bay where they hoped to find wild 
geese, the marshes along the Chesapeake 
being the haunt of many wildfowl at this 
season. These men had a hut on the 
shore a mile or two from the city, where 
they could have shelter at times while wait- 
ing for a chance at the birds, and this hut 
was their immediate destination. 
The man who owned the dog was Ned 
Hunter, his companion’s name was Jim 
Ryerson, and the dog himself was a splen- 
did specimen of a special breed known as 
“Chesapeake Bay dogs,” a large water- 
spaniel, bred expressly for this kind of 
sport. This dog, Tony by name, was the 
size and build of the ordinary Newfound- 
land, not over-large, and of a perfect dead 
grass color from the tip of his nose to 
the end of his tail. 
“We ought to be having good sport to- 
night,” remarked Jim as they struck the 
bridge. “It’s as clear as a bell.” 
“Yes,” replied Hunter, glancing up and 
down the wide creek, “but there’s lots of 
broken ice. A man on the wharf — came 
in a little while ago with Tibbs’ oyster 
pungj' — says the bay’s full of it.. How- 
ever, we’ll get ’em if we find ’em, won’t 
we, Tony boy?” 
Tony cocked an intelligent eye at his 
master and ambled along with a cheerful 
air. 
“That dog has never failed me yet,” con- 
tinued Ned; “he always brings in a shot 
bird.” 
“They do get lost sometimes, though, 
where no dog can find ’em,” said Jim. 
“Well, of course, one might drop too far 
out for him to see, but if Tony gets a 
bird he never lets go. I’ve known him to 
stay a half-hour out in broken ice, but he 
always brings in the bird if it’s there.” 
W ITH such conversation they beguiled 
the way and were soon leaving the 
suburb on the opposite bank of the 
creek, and striking out into the open coun- 
try. Here there was more snow, crunching 
crisply underfoot, clinging in light masses 
to pine and cedar, and piled delicately on 
every weed and spray. Over all the magic 
radiance of moonlight. Here, the shad- 
ows sharp and dark upon the snow, beyond, 
along field and wood, by hollow and hill- 
side, soft mysterious gray and purple, and 
afar, growing clearer as they neared it, a 
line of silver that meant the bay. Soon 
the cabin they were bound for stood in full 
view, somewhat off the road, the path lead- 
ing to it curving on gently down a slope 
to the water’s edge. Over to the left lay 
a marsh, on the right the shore line ended 
abruptly in irregular, steep bluffs. 
“Here we are,” remarked Jim, and pres- 
ently they were inside the cabin which con- 
sisted of a single room with one window 
and a fireplace; and contained a few pieces 
of rough furniture. Hunter struck a 
match and lighted a lantern which he took 
down from a nail, placing it on the table, 
and beside it several parcels which he took 
from his coat pockets. ' 
“There,” he said, “that will do for later 
on when we have a fire. Now we are ready 
for action.” 
Extinguishing the lantern they stepped 
out into the moonlight again, and took the 
path down the slope. Skirting the marsh 
theV proceeded cautiously and some ten 
minutes later caught sight of birds at a 
little distance. 
“They’re getting up,” said Jim in a 
whisper, raising his gun. Both men fired 
at the same moment and three birds fell 
as the flock rose 
with a mighty 
whirr and were 
out of range be- 
fore J i m’s gun 
cracked again, 
vainly. 
“Bring ’em in, 
Tony,” said Ned 
and the dog sprang 
out on the frozen 
marsh, returning 
presently, d r a g- 
ging a great bird. 
He laid it at his 
master’s feet and 
plunged back 
again among the 
reeds. 
“S w a n,” said 
Ned, picking up 
the bird. “A 
whopper, isn’t he? 
Here comes Tony 
with another.” 
“The third one was only wounded,” said 
Jim; “there it is out on the ice fluttering 
along. We’ll lose that one, I reckon.” 
“Not much,” replied Ned. “The dog 
will get it. Here, Tony, go bring it in.” 
T he dog just depositing the second 
bird, glanced up at his master, then 
following the direction of his hand 
toward the water, saw the fluttering bird 
and was off like a shot. The bird was on 
the broken ice in-shore, but as the dog ap- 
proached fluttered on and on, the dog pur- 
suing. The two men walked on down to 
the little strip of beach which eftded on 
the right at the foot of a bluff. Here they 
stood intently watching the chase, which 
drew farther and farther away until both 
dog and bird were finally lost sight of be- 
hind the bluff. Up and down they walked, 
talking while they waited. Twenty min- 
utes passed; a half-hour. 
“Where do you s’pose he is?” asked Jim 
at length. “Think he’s made shore below 
there?” 
‘“He can’t make it for about six miles 
down,” replied Hunter. “I know this 
shore like my own back yard, and there 
isn’t a landing place except just this side 
the Ridge. He’ll come back this way if 
the current and wind aren’t too strong 
for him. The wind’s getting up.” 
He buttoned his coat up close to his 
throat, stuck his hands into his pockets, 
and again they tramped up and down. An- 
other half-hour passed, there was no sign 
of the dog and Ryerson was growing 
steadily more disgruntled. 
“Why the devil didn’t he give it up and 
come back ?” he grumbled. “Then we 
could have followed the birds up the marsh 
and had some sport. The chances are now 
he’ll never make shore. He’ll get swamped 
(continued on page 143) 
