January, 1918 
FOREST ANI) STREAM 
17 
A faint idea of what happened when the 
rabbit popped out of his hole. 
Ike and I held our angry dogs while we 
exchanged our compliments. 
Five grouse buzzed up under my nose, 
but I was not hunting grouse. 
W ITH such caustic repartee as this 
we rambled on toward Slate Creek 
while the dogs zig-zagged on ahead 
of us. Picking out a point overlooking the 
Creek we sat down on a log, filled our 
pipes and watched the dogs work. It was 
not long until a rabbit jumped like a jack 
out of a box right from under “Biff’s” 
nose. This appeared to surprise “Biff” a 
good deal— he fell over backward with a 
yelp, then tucked his tail between his legs 
and streaked it toward us for protection. 
Before we could train our batteries on 
bunny he had popped into a hole. 
“There,” yells Ike as proud as a fond 
parent, “look at my ‘Heck!’—watch ’im 
trail that rabbit right to his lair! How’s 
that for a rabbit dog, eh Newt?” 
I’ll admit that “Heck” had trotted lei¬ 
surely after the rabbit and was sniffing cu¬ 
riously at the hole into which it had 
popped, but all I said was, “Aw, ‘Heck’ 
was goin’ that direction anyhow; besides 
‘Heck’s’ got sense enough to know that 
when a rabbit’s in a hole it can’t hurt him.” 
Ike thought this one over a spell, then he 
says very serious, “I wish, Newt, that these 
Slate Crick rabbits was muzzled.” 
“Muzzled!” says I gulpin’ down hook, 
line, sinker and snappin’ viciously at the 
boat; “Muzzled?—why?” 
“Because,” says Ike with a giggle, “I’m 
afraid one of ’em’ll turn on your dog and 
tear ’im to pieces!” 
Then we moved down to inspect the 
rabbit-hole. “Tell you wot let’s do, Ike l” 
says I with a boyhood inspiration; “let’s 
go ahead’n’ smoke ’im out?” 
“Wot’s the good of all that bother?” says 
Jke; “we can jump another one easier.” 
“Well,” says I, “a rabbit in a hole is 
worth two in the brush. Besides it’ll be 
more fun. Not only that, but it will be 
a good lesson for the dogs. Whaddye 
says?” “All right,” says Ike, “get busy.” 
In a jiffy we had a heap of twigs, dried 
moss and leaves smudging at the mouth of 
the hole and took turns fanning it into the 
opening with our hats while we wept co¬ 
piously and nearly sneezed our fool heads 
off. The two dogs seemed to be as much 
interested as we were—they pranced fran¬ 
tically about our legs yelping and whining. 
Bye and bye I got down on my hands and 
knees and peered into the hole. 
“See ’im?” asks Ike. 
“No,” says I, “but I can hear ’im. Lis- 
sen!—I heard ’im sneeze twice—he’ll be 
out in a minute!” 
I was wrong about that, but of course 
even an expert rabbit-hunter is liable to 
make a mistake now and then—that rabbit 
didn’t wait a minute! 
As I crouched tensely on my hands and 
knees rubbering searchingly into the 
gloomy depths of the hole out streamed 
that cottontail and butted me right between 
the eyes! 
I am always very cool and collected in 
an emergency—with great presence of 
mind I fell over backward landing on top 
of Ike’s “Heck” dog. I don’t know 
whether “Heck” got me confused with the 
rabbit or not—probably he did. Gee-whizz, 
how I despise a dog who doesn’t know the 
difference between a rabbit and a gentle¬ 
man ! At any rate “Heck” fastened his 
fangs into the calf of my leg and I let 
out a whoop of derision. Meanwhile Ike 
hauled off and kicked like a mule at the 
rabbit, but missed it—and inserted the toe 
of his boot between my third and fourth 
ribs! When I yelled at “Heck” to leggo 
ray leg, “Biff” came to my rescue and fast¬ 
ened on “Heck.” I grabbed hold of Ike’s 
leg to pull myself clear of the fighting dogs 
and pulled Ike down on top of me! 
T HE air was full of men, dogs, snarls, 
hair, toenails, eyebrows, smoke, 
sparks and cuss-words ! You couldn’t 
tell who was who in that mixup. At length 
Ike and I struggled to our feet, but the 
dogs were still in a clinch—and we pried 
’em apart. Then we stood each holding 
his respective dog, glaring fiercely at each 
other and breathing heavily. 
“Wot did you kick me like that for when 
I was down?” demands I. 
“Wot did you bite my dog for?” counters 
Ike. 
“I bit your dog,” says I, “because he— 
No, no, I did NOT bite your dog, you 
dura fool! Wot do you think I am, a dog- 
prize-fighter ?” 
“If I told you wot I think you are,” 
hisses Ike, “you could send me to jail for 
six years! Look at my fingers where I 
stuck ’em in the fire!” 
“Well, they’re your own fingers,” says 
I; “stick ’em in the fire if you want to 1” 
“You’re an idiot!” says Ike. 
“Same to you,” says I; “where’s the 
rabbit ?” 
“Wot rabbit?” says Ike surprised. 
“Why the rabbit we smoked out,” says I. 
“Oh! yes!—that’s so!” says Ike look¬ 
ing around, then he added, “Blest if I know 
where it is!” 
Then we pulled ourselves together, 
calmed down and cooled off. After we 
had eaten some sandwiches Aunt Mary had 
put up for us we decided that for the in¬ 
terests of all parties concerned (including 
the dogs) it would be better for us to 
hunt separately. So Ike and “Heck” took 
the down-creek slope while “Biff” and I 
worked in the opposite direction. 
Little “Biff” ranged on ahead and seemed 
to be getting thru his head what was ex¬ 
pected of him. I naturally became quite 
proud of the pup and decided that with a 
little practice he would make a fine rabbit 
dog—and, incidentally, give Ike’s “Heck” 
cards and spades in the cottontail game. 
In fact I couldn’t keep up with “Biff” and 
finally he disappeared altogether in some 
alders along the creek bottom. I whistled 
and called repeatedly, but the little rascal 
didn’t show up, so I poked on alone. 
I had stopped to look over the ground 
ahead thinking perhaps I could locate a 
rabbit sitting. Of course I’m too much of 
a sportsman, you understand, to open fire 
on a sedentary rabbit—unless I need meat 
pretty badly. But I thought if I could lo¬ 
cate a rabbit in a stationary position, I 
would be forewarned, as it were, and my 
nerves wouldn’t suffer such a shock when 
the little brown scamp “blew up” and beat 
it right under my gun-muzzle. But there 
was no rabbit in sight—I went over the 
ground carefully, then moved forward. 
The first step I took five grouse “ex¬ 
ploded” right in front of me and boomed 
off majestically across the creek! After 
they had disappeared in a thicket I remem¬ 
bered I had a shot-gun in my hands, but 
I also reflected that I was after rabbits, 
not grouse. I’m not the kind of a hunter 
who blazes away at every thing he sees. 
When I hunt rabbits, I hunt rabbits and 
when I hunt grouse, I hunt ditto. 
A FTER I had waded thru the brush 
for two hours or more I became un¬ 
easy about “Biff”—I had seen or 
heard nothing of him and sat down on a 
log to have a smoke and think things over. 
As I puffed away I heard Ike shoot twice 
away down the valley. “The lives of two 
more rabbits spared,”' says I to myself. 
Then I whistled loud and long for my dog. 
At length I heard something scrambling 
thru the briers and presently “Biff” broke 
into sight a little way down the hill. 
“Where you been, you little runaway?” 
I hollers good naturedly for I was glad to 
see him again. Soon as “Biff” got his 
eye on me he came slowly up the hill. 
There seemed to be something melancholy 
and dejected in his appearance and move¬ 
ments. “Little feller’s all tired out,” says 
I; “come here, ‘Biffy,’ and rest a bit.” 
“Biffy” waddled slowly up to where I 
sat—then I grabbed my nose in my hand 
and fell backward off the log! 
Poor “Biff” had been scraping up an 
acquaintance with a skunk! Talk about 
poison-gas and limburger cheese and rub¬ 
ber-patch cement!—they were like attar 
of roses by comparison! I thought I’d as¬ 
phyxiate before I could get on my feet. 
Then I threw a stone in “Biff’s” direction 
(continued on page 48) 
