52 
DEATH OF YOCKCO. 
the family when he considered refreshments in 
order. 
He would come sniffing up to one of them, 
and when near enough to touch them, would 
stand up and beg as little dogs are sometimes 
taught to do. If no immediate attention was 
given him, he gave a teasing little whine, varied 
with most expressive movements of the muscles 
of his nose and face. 
When food was given him, he grasped it in 
one of his paws — he used these as a monkey 
does its hands— settled back on his haunches 
and tail, and ate it as squirrels do nuts. 
Poor Yockco! He died on the way to the 
Centennial ; and this fragment of his biography 
is given here to do justice to his family, which, 
by the reputation usually given it, is shamefully 
maligned. 
experience Mrs. Maxwell learned that the 
® best time for securing animals and observing 
their habits was the early morning, when they first 
appear in search of food. So it was her custom 
to rise as soon as it was light enough to see, and 
make a careful inspection of the neighborhood in 
which they camped. Upon one of their trips they 
stopped, late in the evening, upon the bank of a 
