FOREST AND STREAM 
177 
I thought sadly of the scanty store in the old 
knapsack as I rose from my log and started for 
a still-hunt to camp, with a hope that my new¬ 
found friend might somehow help me to a deer. 
He did. He came to heel of his own accord, 
and crept along with the stealthy, noiseless 
tread of a cat. I noticed too that he kept a 
little on the side, where he could have a clear 
view past my legs, where he was all alert of ears, 
eyes and nose. “This looks well, if he don’t 
break,” I muttered, and we went on thus for 
maybe a mile, when I felt a decided nudge at 
the calf of my leg. I thought it accidental, and 
paid no attention to it; but a minute later I 
felt it again, more decidedly, and then I looked 
at the dog. He was a picture of animation and 
excitement, and was trembling with eagerness. 
His large bright eyes glistened as he looked me 
in the face, with his head turned knowingly a 
little aside, and then pointed with his long muz¬ 
zle to a thicket some two hundred yards ahead. 
The hunter who did not understand such a dog 
would be dull indeed. Of course there was big 
game in easy distance; but how the dog would 
behave in roading up to it was the question. 
Well, he behaved admirably; nothing could be 
better. Keeping a few paces in advance, he crept 
slowly and noiselessly along, with his nose point¬ 
ing steadily toward his game, until we were 
near some large rocks, when he sank silently to 
a crouching position and came to a dead point 
at the rocks. I thought he must be mistaken, 
and that the same must be in the thicket beyond; 
but he was right. Just as I had crawled on to 
the nearest rock and straightened myself to an 
upright position, a big doe sprang from the 
shelter of a bigger rock and went for the thicket 
at her best speed. It was so sudden that I was 
a trifle rattled at first, but I pulled myself to¬ 
gether with a passing thought that now, if ever, 
the camp had some need of venison, caught the 
bead fairly on the white hair, and sent in two 
bullets in quick succession. At the second shot 
I saw a hindleg swing helplessly out of place, 
and the next instant the dog flew by me like a 
red streak, showing unlooked-for speed and gain¬ 
ing rapidly. I thought then, and still think, that 
he only broke when he saw that it was to be a 
three-legged race on the deer’s part, and he 
could end the race by a minute’s sharp running. 
In fact, before I had finished re-loading there 
arose the agonizing bawl of a deer in its death 
struggle, and when I reached the spot the doe 
was dead, with the dog still at the throat, drink¬ 
ing like a starving savage of her life blood. 
It was cruel. I admit it. I felt somewhat like 
a savage myself. But the camp was out of meat, 
and here was ‘‘man’s best friend” in starving 
condition, while I too was hungry for venison. I 
cut off the head and gave it to the dog to gnaw 
while I dressed the deer, hung up the forequar¬ 
ters, and fitted the saddle for toting to camp. 
When I had succeeded in seating my load where 
it would ride easily, with the rifle resting across 
the legs in front, I gave the word and we started 
for camp, the dog no: forgetting to bring along 
the head, which had a way of slipping from his 
jaws every hundred yards or so. My load, too, 
grew heavy long before reaching camp; but we 
made the shanty without a rest, and with an 
hour of daylight to spare. 
And when the saddle was hung in a tree a 
little back from the fire, with juicy venison 
steaks broiling and a pot of strong green tea 
simmering over the bright coals, the whole made 
a sylvan picture that does not need photograph¬ 
ing. As for the dog, he was too busy with the 
head to pay much attention to anything else; 
and when the supper was over, and the camp 
had relapsed into silence, his teeth could be 
heard grating on the hard skull from beyond 
the back-log, making a most discordant accom¬ 
paniment to the silvery murmur of the little rill 
back of the shanty; so I called him in and tied 
him to a corner of the shanty with a light tump 
rope. He took it patiently and without a whine, 
settling himself in the warm glow with a long- 
drawn sigh of canine satisfaction. Then I 
wondered what his name might be, for you can’t 
get on well with a nameless dog or man in camp. 
To call out “Mister Man” or “Doggy, Doggy,” 
is ungenial and subversive of all good fellow¬ 
ship. So I tried him with half a score of the 
most common names in vogue with still-hunters, 
pronouncing them at intervals and in an ordi¬ 
nary tone, but he took no notice until I spoke the 
name of my old-time favorite still-hunt dog, 
Pete. At once he sprang to his feet with such 
an eager inquiring look as proved that the name, 
if not the exact thing, was near enough to it 
for all practical purposes. And from that time, 
so long as he was with me, he was only known 
as Pete. 
The new partnership opened auspiciously for 
both dog and man. We had met as strangers 
at noon, and at dark were lying full-fed by a 
bright camp-fire, with more venison ahead than 
we were likely to use, for which I freely gave 
the dog full credit, and it struck me that I had 
found a canine bonanza. Imagine a dog that will 
wind a deer half a mile to windward, will lead 
you up to it unerringly, and end by crouching 
within shot and making a dead set on it. Such 
a dog was Pete. I hunted faithfully from dawn 
till dark during the next three days, not that I 
cared to get another deer, but to test the dog 
and learn all his peculiarities; and I was never 
more interested in any phase of woodcraft. 
His list of accomplishments as a hunter was 
not a long one, but included the most important 
points, and he was very thorough. His trick of 
'nudging me to call my attention to the fact that 
he had winded a deer was a point on which he 
never failed, and it might be placed to the ac¬ 
count of instinct. But when I purposely refrain¬ 
ed from noticing his signals and he plunged his 
muzzle into the calf of my leg, taking at the same 
time a fine, sharp nip that raised a blood-blister, 
why, that was plainly reasoning. It was simply 
saying, in the only language he could command, 
“There, take that. Now wake up and ’tend to 
business.” 
It was when I shot, however, that he showed 
his best dog wit and wisdom- On such occa¬ 
sions he would stand erect on his hindlegs, watch¬ 
ing the effect of the shot with his keen eyes, 
and if he saw the cut hair fly at the crack of 
the rifle (as it always does when a deer it hit,) 
he was off like an arrow. Evidently he under¬ 
stood that to wait until the gun was re-loaded 
and a slow-going man had time to examine the 
track, was giving the deer a long start, when, 
by rushing the race at once he might end it in a 
short half mile. I thought this the highest de¬ 
velopment of canine reasoning that had ever hap¬ 
pened to come under my observation, and any 
dog trainer will see, on a little reflection, that it 
could not have been taught. He must have 
evolved it from “the depths of his inner con¬ 
sciousness.” When the shot happened to be a 
miss, and it happened often enough, Pete was 
all broken up and became decidedly comical. He 
would stand on his hindfeet, tiptoeing and cran¬ 
ing until the deer had taken the last inch of its 
tail out of sight, then drop slowly to all fours, 
give me a look of sad reproach and come to 
heel in a dejected, woebegone manner that was 
highly amusing. 
And he had his failings, even as a -hunter. 
For instance, no matter how promising the day 
or how plenty the deer, the fresh trail of a bear 
or a mountain cat would start him off without 
a moment’s warning. The mountain cat was 
his favorite aversion. It was to this animal 'that 
he was indebted for most of the scars that orna¬ 
mented his muzzle and mismated ears, and he 
hunted them with undying spite and vigor; also, 
with notable success, owing to the fact that he 
always roaded up to them silently and pounced 
on them unawares, usually closing before the 
astonished cat could make the nearest tree. Of 
course the cat would fight itself free in a few 
seconds, for nothing short of a powerful mastiff 
can hold a full-grown mountain cat, but all the 
same it was ready to tree at the first chance 
after such a surprise and scrimmage. I got an 
inkling of Pete’s ways on the cat question as 
we were skirting a dense, tangled windfall on 
the second day’s hunt, when, without a sign of 
warning, he suddenly broke and disappeared like 
a flash. For a few minutes there was silence, 
and then, from the densest part of that dense, 
briery thicket there arose a great racket. The 
sharp angry bark of the dog was punctuated by 
the snarling of a cat, while an occasional shrill 
yelp showed that the dog was not having it all 
his own way. Then the racket settled down to 
steady, persistent baying,, and I tore my way 
through laurel, skin-hopple and briers, to a spot 
where the dog was raving with bloody nose and 
ears, at the foot of a gnarled hemlock, while a 
sleek mountain cat was calmly taking in the 
situation from a comfortable seat some forty 
feet above. A minute later the cat was on the 
leaves with a bullet through his head, and Pete 
was getting satisfaction by shaking the carcass 
to his heart’s content. The cat was a fat young 
male, and would hardly scale less than 40 lbs. I 
took off the skin neatly for casing, and also took 
the tenderloins and a ham to camp; for the meat 
of a young mountain cat, or a panther, is 
sweeter and juicier than venison. If you doubt 
this try it ihe first chance you have. I may 
mention just here that there was a bounty of 75 
cents on these cats, and a prime pelt would bring 
as much more, which made the animal worth 
saving with most hunters. But he was mainly 
hunted down through a feeling of hatred and 
vindictiveness, being decidedly the worst enemy 
the deer has to look out for. 
His trick of crouching on an overhanging limb 
by a runway and dropping on the first deer that 
passes is very deadly, and I think he never 
misses his “’tip-” I have followed the trail of 
these deadly struggles several times, both on 
leaves and light snows, and it always ended by 
finding several conical 'heaps of leaves, under one 
of which was sure to 'be found the remains of 
(Continued on page 196.) 
