Feb. 9, 1907.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
209 
Speck—The Widow’s Mite. 
Bob was sousing his hands and face at the 
tin wash basin on the stump, and I was grop¬ 
ing for the towel, my eyes, ears and mouth full 
of suds such as only home made soft soap can 
produce. 
“Jim,” said Mrs. Mallett from the kitchen 
door to her husband who was awaiting his turn 
at the basin. “Mis’ Sutherland is down to her 
sister’s at The Corners. She stopped here this 
mornin’ an’ sez she’s back here to stay.” 
"Well, she won’t have to beg to stay any¬ 
where she wants to,” replied Jim as he took 
his place at the stump and splashed vigorously. 
“Her man left her a mighty good quarter sec¬ 
tion uv land down t’other side uv Berwick. 
What wuz it he died uv?—pneumonia? 
“Yes, that’s what Mis’ Sutherland said; had a 
cold on his chest an’ wuz jest a’gittin’ over it, 
when what did he do but go off coon huntin’ an’ 
got good an’ wet, an’ come home worse off than 
before. He did’nt last th’ week out after that. 
It ought to be a warnin’ to folks that’s always 
so crazy to be trampin’ ’round with a dog an’ 
a gun.” 
Jim turned to Bob and me. “Jest yesterday I 
wuz a’readin’ uv a feller over toward Monmouth 
that starved to death waitin’ for his wife to git 
dinner.” Mrs. Mallett evidently felt the point 
of this remark; for a moment later we heard the 
rattle of pots and pans which betokened that she 
was “takin’ up th’ dinner.” 
Quail were ripe and Bob and I were the guests 
of our sportsmanly inclined friend, Jim Mallett, 
and had spent the morning in his company, 
hunting the several coveys of birds which used 
his fields. The morning had furnished good 
sport and fair bags, so by noon we were ready 
to do justice to the dinner that Mrs. Mallett had 
promised us. At the table the widow of the 
• late Mr. Sutherland continued to be the subject 
of conversation. 
“Mis’ Sutherland ’pear to be much broke up 
over her loss?” asked Jim. 
“My! yes,” replied his wife; “why shouldn’t 
she be? Not a child nor nothin’ left to remind 
her uv him.” 
“ ’Cept that quarter section,” corrected Jim. 
“An’ that speckled hound dog that wuz with 
her,” added Jim’s twelve year old son. Jim is 
usually a quiet, self contained man little given to 
talking, and I was surprised at the sudden in¬ 
terest which the mention of the widow’s dog 
aroused in him. 
“Had a speckled hound dog with her, eh?” 
Then in a cross-examination tone of voice: 
; “Purty smart actin’ dog?” 
“Yes, tol’able.” 
“Have much uv an ear on him?” 
“Longer’n usual c’nsider’ble.” 
“How’d he carry hisself?—tail up an’ head 
down ?” 
“Yes, ’bout th’ same ez OP Tige.” (Jim’s 
coon dog, OP Tige, was recognized as the local 
: standard of hound excellence, although old age 
had about ended his years of usefulness.) 
“Th’ widder ’fiear to be much took up with 
th’ dog?” Jim asked this question after consider¬ 
able deliberation. 
“Oh, no, not particular.” The examination of 
the witness was closed and Jim finished his pie 
in silence. 
Down along the creek bottom that afternoon 
we found a bunch of gloriously gamy birds, and 
I after we had flushed the covey and hunted out 
all the singles we could locate, we sat down on 
the hill side to compare notes and count the 
score. Then Jim for the first time since dinner 
became communicative. “Neither one uv you 
boys ever knew Hank Sutherland, did you?” 
We answered no. “He wuz a great hand to 
hunt, but his game wuz coons. Why, he wuz 
jest plumb crazy ’bout huntin’ ’em ’an he gin- 
erally fetched some home when he went after 
’em too. Jest ’bout a month ’fore he wuz took 
sick he wuz up this way an’ wuz a’tellin’ me 
’bout a coon dog that he had that wuz a dandy. 
Said he’d been offered a right good cow in trade 
for th’ dog an’ wuz terrible ’fraid that his 
woman would hear uv it an’ pester him 'til he’d 
haf to swap.” 
“Well, did his wife find out about the offer 
and make him trade?” Bob asked. 
“That’s jest th’ pint I wuz cornin’ to,” Jim re¬ 
plied. “You both heard what th’ folks said at 
dinner time ’bout th’ hound that th’ widder had 
with her. Now from the description uv that dog 
I’m purty sure that it wuz Hank’s special coon 
dog that he wuz tellin’ me uv.” Jim paused and 
blew his nose vigorously in the manner of a 
man who does not know what to say next. Then 
with his face turned from us he went on: “OP 
Tige’s gittin’ so old an’ stiff that he ain’t first 
class any more an’ I kindo thought mebbe— 
perhaps—it might be that—that you boys would 
think th’ same ez I do ’bout tryin’ to make some 
dicker with th’ widder for Hank’s dog. It ain’t 
uv no use to her an’ she prob’ly don’t have no 
idee uv th’ wurth uv him an’ more’n likely she 
let him go mighty cheap.” 
We knew now what had occupied Jim’s 
thoughts that afternoon and the cause of the sud¬ 
den interest which he had developed at the din¬ 
ner table in the widow Sutherland’s canine com¬ 
panion. OP Tige had been owned jointly by we 
three since the day, now years ago, when Bob 
and I brought him, an awkward puppy all legs 
and ears, to Jim, and many’s the time his music 
on the trail of some wiley old coon had quick¬ 
ened the pulse of the three of us. Now, how¬ 
ever, OP Tige was a candidate for retirement 
and Jim was suggesting that Bob and I con¬ 
spire with him to secure possession of the late 
Mr. Sutherland’s world’s wonder coon dog to 
take the place of Tige. Only the alluring hand 
of temptation could have furnished us at this 
psychological moment such a worthy successor 
“mighty cheap.” We hesitated—faltered—and 
yielded completely. We slapped Jim on the back 
and crowded upon him the dishonor of originat¬ 
ing such an idea. When our conscience showed 
signs of making trouble, we recalled that the 
widow was already blessed with the possession 
of “a mighty good quarter section uv land,” and 
had no possible use for a coon dog, and more 
than likely the cow that the fellow wanted to 
trade for the dog was of no account anyway, 
and—well we just smothered our conscience with 
arguments, and by the time that Bob and I were 
ready to start home that evening the whole mat¬ 
ter was arranged. Jim was to see the widow at 
his earliest convenience, and in a manner the 
least likely to arouse suspicion, offer to take the 
hound off her hands at a reasonable figure. We 
decided that the widow would consider ten or 
twelve dollars even more than a reasonable re¬ 
muneration for the animal, and each of us ex¬ 
pressed our willingness to contribute a third of 
the purchase price. 
It was a week before Bob and I heard from 
our fellow conspirator. Then Bob hurried in 
one day with a note from Jim. That communi¬ 
cation read: 
“Hitch up and Come out soon as Posable. I 
got the dog. Hees a Dandy. Had to give 12 
dolars for Him. The widow ain’t no fule. Jim.” 
It is twelve miles out to Jim’s farm, but we 
drove it in an hour. Jim met us at the gate 
with a smiling face and the new dog. We named 
him Speck on the spot. I don’t believe I ever 
saw any other dog that looked just like Speck. 
He was finished with a ground color of white, 
which was punctuated throughout with dots, 
dashes and commas of black and tan. He had 
the appearance of a white dog that had been 
shot with a brush gun loaded with lampblack 
and yellow ochre. He was not a pretty dog, 
but the several wrinkles in his forehead gave 
him the appearance of being a deep thinker. 
After the horse had been put away, we climbed 
up to the hay loft of the barn so that we might 
hear Jim’s report without being intruded upon. 
Jim spoke almost in a whisper as he began: 
“Didn’t git no chance to see th’ widder ’til day 
’fore yesterday—wuz drivin’ down to Th’ Cor¬ 
ners an’ ketched up with her on th’ road, an’ 
asted her to git in th’ buggy an’ ride home. 
’Course she wuz willin’ to ride, an’ I helt th’ 
team down to a walk an’ we gossiped along like 
a pair uv ol’ wimmen for quite a ways. Th’ 
dog wuz a’follerin’ ’long behind, but I didn’t 
pay no ’tention to him ’til we’d gone ’bout a 
mile; then I sez: ‘Your hound ’pears to be 
purty thin, Mis’ Sutherland; is he sickly?’ ‘No, 
I don’t guess he is,’ sez she; ‘guess he’s jest 
pinin’ to go huntin’; wants to have a tussle with 
a coon, I reckon.’ ‘Oh, ez he a coon dog?’ sez 
I, kindo surprised like. ‘I guess he is,’ she sez. 
‘Leastways, Hank ’lowed he wuz, an’ I guess 
Hank wuz c’nsidered a purty good jedge.’ Well, 
we jogged along for quite a ways further ’fore 
anythin’ else wuz said, an’ then I tells th’ widder 
that I wished I had somethin’ to remember 
Hank by, bein’ ez we wuz boys together, an’ 
asts her if she would sell me th’ dog, knowin’ 
ez she did that I would take good care uv him. 
She ’peared to be some pleased with the idee, and 
wanted to know what I thought th’ hound wuz 
wuth. I said that I didn’t hardly know, an’ 
asts her what she values him at, an’ she goes on 
to tell ’bout Hank sayin’ that he never owned 
any other dog like him, an’ ends up by sayin’ 
that she’d c’nsider that he’d be awful cheap at 
fourteen or fifteen dollars, but if I want some¬ 
thin’ uv Hank’s for a keepsake. I can have him 
for twelve. Bein’ ez that wuz ’bout what we 
calculated on, I pays her th’ twelve dollars on 
th’ spot, an' when we got to her sister’s house 
she lent me a piece uv rope an’ I tied th’ dog 
under th’ buggy an’ drove home.” 
Twelve dollars! Why, the dog was worth 
three times that paltry sum and we told each 
other so, and Bob and I complimented Jim upon 
making such a bargain. Then we climbed down 
from the loft to look at our new possession once 
more, and go to the house for supper; after 
which we were to give Speck his first oppor¬ 
tunity to prove his worth. The night promised 
to be dark and possibly stormy, but what of 
that? We knew that the coon family would not 
stay indoors on account of darkness and threats 
of rain, so nightfall saw three of us trudging 
down the road toward the big timber along the 
creek. Bob led the way with the lantern, I came 
next with a gun and ax, and Jim brought up 
the rear leading Speck, who surged about wildly 
at the end of his rope in a way that plainly be- 
