Feb. 3, 1912 
FOREST AND STREAM 
141 
The Story of a Hunting Dog 
By MOQUIS 
B EPPO was a beagle, given me by a friend. 
One day a party comprising George, Fred, 
Charles and myself went over to Cotley 
and had Beppo to follow the game. Not long 
after striking into the woods the dog sung out 
on a start, and rushed madly down into the 
swamp. After him went the hunters, I being 
the last. This swamp was a good place to start 
a rabbit, but very difficult to get a shot, being 
filled with briars and alders and birches and 
plenty of mud and water. 
I had been there before and knew something 
about it, as well as the course which the rab¬ 
bit would probably take; for over and over 
again we had started a rabbit in that spot, and 
he invariably got away from us. Finding from 
the direction the dog was taking that the game 
was going through the swamp to the opposite 
side, where there was some high ground, I 
backed Out of the swamp and cut around to 
the right, where the woods were more open, in 
an endeavor to get to a stand on a rabbit run, 
where I knew the rabbit was likely to pass, 
provided he kept on the course he was then 
pursuing. 
I ran as fast as I was able and got my stand 
where I could see quite a distance before me. 
I had not long to wait when bunny emerged 
from the thick covert and came up the path 
directly toward me. As I raised my gun he saw 
the motion and turned to dodge back, but I 
fired just in time, and he fell at the shot. Al¬ 
most at the same' second Beppo appeared, 
coming in full cry on the trail. He came up 
to the rabbit and mouthed him a little, and 
looked as pleased as his master. I was glad 
to get this rabbit, as he had thrown the dogs 
off a number of times; and I have no doubt 
would have done so on this occasion had I not 
taken the stand I did. 
On a second hunt there were five in the 
party, the fifth man being Joe. On the right 
of the county road we had started a rabbit 
which ran like a hare, going a good mile 
straight away before he made a turn and head¬ 
ed back. Finding this to be the case, I went 
up the road until I came to a cart-path which 
I presumed the rabbit would cross, and there 
taking my stand where I could guard the cart- 
path and also see down the main road, I waited 
for ten minutes until I knew by the rapidly 
nearing bark of the dogs, Beppo and Smiler, 
that the game was heading my way and coming 
fast. I was all ready to shoot, when I heard 
a crash, and Beppo appeared, running at full 
speed and in full cry and dashed across the 
path almost at my feet. It was evident the 
rabbit had passed before I got there. 
The briars there were so thick as to be al¬ 
most impenetrable. Of course, the rabbit could 
scurry along beneath them, but a big dog could 
not do so. Beppo, however, was not so large 
as to be prevented from keeping along at a 
good rate of speed on the track; for he 
crouched and literally crawled along under these 
briars until he came to better going. Not long 
after he disappeared, Joe’s dog came up. He 
was a big dog, almost as large as a mastiff, and 
had a thick coat of hair that made him look 
like a sheep, his coat being perfectly white. It 
was with great difficulty that this dog could get 
along at all; in fact, he could not do so, ex¬ 
cept by jumping into the air and alighting on 
the tops of the briars, and he managed in that 
way to work his way along, but he was far be¬ 
hind Beppo in consequence. 
Seeing how things were going, the rabbit 
still heading up the road, I concluded the best 
thing I could do was to run up the road until 
I came opposite the point where I should hear 
Beppo driving, and then rush into the brush 
and try to get within the maze, where there 
was an open space. This I accordingly did; 
but when I got to what seemed a favorable 
spot, I saw Joe in the distance, and felt sure 
of one' of two things, either Joe would get the 
rabbit or miss it; and if he missed it, and ii 
did not hole up, the rabbit would take the back 
RABBIT HUNTING. 
Photograph by Frank Winch. 
track again to the place from which it origi¬ 
nally came. 
Accordingly I got out of the woods, took 
the road and ran down it as fast as my legs 
would carry me until I arrived at the path 
across which the quarry had gone in the first 
place. I had not long to wait, the rabbit in 
rapid flight jumped across the path some way 
to my right and I let go at him as he did so. 
I did not know whether I had got him or not, 
but ran down the path to see what had become of 
him, and there just below in the woods I saw 
George and Fred, who, pointing to the rabbit 
which lay dead at their feet, said, “You have 
got him,” and so that ended the hunt of that 
day. 
One further incident in Beppo’s career, which 
came near putting an untimely end to it: He 
was running along by the side of my carriage 
in which were two young ladies, when they 
chanced to pass by a house whose owner kept 
a number of Dane dogs. Three of them came 
out of the barnyard, and while Beppo was run¬ 
ning along entirely ignorant of their prese.ice, 
as he had not seen them, one of them ma fe a 
dive at him, and catching him, tore a piece 
from his neck nearly as large as my hand. The 
second dog bit Beppo as he lay powerless in 
the dust. One young lady leaped out of the 
carriage with the whip and lashed the great 
Dane, and Beppo then managed to make his 
escape, and ran as fast as he could until he 
came to the creek which ran across the road 
from the anchor forge pond; and swimming 
this creek, he ran up the opposite bank and dis¬ 
appeared. It was hours afterward before he re¬ 
turned home,, and then he came and lay down 
upon the' door-mat, covered with blood and 
dirt and almost exhausted. I secured the 
services of a skilful veterinary, and he took 
twenty stitches in that dog’s neck to replace 
the torn and lacerated portion. The dog did 
not utter one cry after the first puncture was 
made with the needle. He recovered, and was 
eventually enabled to still roam around in the 
woods, but not as before. 
Beppo was one of the best dogs I ever had. 
He was with me nearly all one day, as I ran 
the lawn-mower or raked the autumn leaves. 
He disappeared that night. I could not find 
him anywhere; but the next day one of my 
neighbors came to me and said he was afraid 
my dog was dead. And going with him to a 
piece of grass land near his house, I found 
Beppo lying on his side, dead. I ascertained 
that he was run over by an automobile. My 
good neighbor and myself took him home, and 
now with grief I write these final lines: 
“Pride of thy race! with worth far less than thine 
Full many human leaders daily shine! 
Less faith, less constancy, less generous zeal!— 
Then no disgrace my humble verse shall feel. 
Where not one lying line to riches bows, 
Or poisoned sentiment from rancor flows. 
Nor flowers are strewn around ambition’s car; 
An honest dog’s a nobler theme by far. 
Each sportsman heard the tidings with a sigh 
When death’s cold touch had stopped his tuneful cry.” 
New Publications. 
The Log of the North Shore Club, by Kirk¬ 
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Sons. 
Few regions are so little known generally to 
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wind blows there, kicking up boisterous seas, so 
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It is of a month passed in exploring the trout 
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Numerous reproductions from his photographs 
assist in making the book a guide for others 
who will go there to fish and to rest. 
Photography for Bird Lovers, by Bentley 
Beetham. Cloth, 126 pages, illustrated, 5s. 
net. London, 'Witherby & Co. 
This manual treats successsively of apparatus, 
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“Home Life of the Spoonbill” and this more, re¬ 
cent work are the result of much painstaking 
labor and patience. 
The Forest and Stream may be obtained' from 
any newsdealer on. order. Ask your decdef to 
supply you regularly. .. .. ^ 
