
In physical proportions, the well bred setter offers a strange contrast to Bob, whose 
photo, unfortunately, we do not have 
Will I ever forget that day in the 
woods with Bob? Not while 
these hands can steady a gun barrel 
and these eyes glance along its shining 
steel. BO 
I was spending a week at old Si 
Evans’s on Rock Creek. The month 
was October. Pike and bass fishing 
were both at their best, and a right 
royal time I was having, breakfasting 
before daylight, wading all day in the 
clear waters of Rock Creek, listening at 
very short intervals to the music of the 
reel, whirling as only a Rock Creek pike 
or bass can make it whirl, returning at 
night tired and hungry to-a game and 
fish dinner cooked in the style that has 
made Si Evans’s hotel famous through 
all the western country. 
I first saw Bob before daylight on 
a frosty October morning. I came 
downstairs very early, all equipped for 
a day’s fishing. In the office of the 
hotel a bright wood fire was burning. 
Mr. Evans was busy trimming his 
lamps behind the little counter. Be- 
fore the fire sat Bob. He never even 
looked around at my entrance; he sat 
with stolid indifference looking at the 
fire. 
Bw dear, kind, patient old Bob. 
E was very ugly. His little face 
was pinched and wrinkled and 
gloomy looking, his eyes were deep set 
and covered with shaggy eyebrows, a 
tuft of gray whiskers hung down from 
his long chin; his body was long and 
fat, his legs were crooked and bowed, 
with big joints and big feet. 
Ugly as he was, there was something 
dignified in the way he sat gazing at 
the fire, pursuing the bent of his own 
thoughts, regardless of all surround- 
ings. 
92. 
“What is it, Si, and where did you 
get it?” 
“Oh, that? Why that’s 
raised Bob from a little dog.” 
“Well, you didn’t have much success 
raising him,” I said, with a laugh. “He 
isn’t much larger than a rabbit now.” 
“Oh, you needn’t laugh, Mr. Fred, 
he’s a good little dog. Are you going to 
take your gun with you to-day? be- 
cause if you are, take Bob along; he’s 
a good little dog.” 
After a short drive Bob and I landed 
on the banks of Rock Creek. Thick 
gray fog was hanging over the stream. 
The morning was cold. I put on a large 
chub for bait. The third or fourth cast 
succeeded in fastening my hook into 
a sunken log well out in the stream. 
The hook was a favorite one that I 
didn’t care to lose, nor did I care to 
risk a wetting by wading out to it at 
this time in the morning. I fastened 
the rod and took up my gun, conclud- 
ing to spend an hour or so in the woods, 
trusting that something would loosen 
my hook in that time. 
Bob. I 
OB during all this time sat quietly 
on the bank, apparently absorbed 
in a deep canine philosophical question. 
I spoke to him as I took my gun. He 
quietly got up and trotted after me. 
We took our way across the broad 
meadows toward a distant piece of tim- 
ber. Several times while crossing. the 
meadow I turned and spoke to Bob; he 
looked up, then looked down; and 
whether he was pleased with my recog- 
nition of him or not I couldn’t tell. If 
he was he gave no sign of it. Bob un- 
fortunately lacked that most expressive 
part of a dog’s anatomy, a tail, so it 
was difficult to interpret his feelings. 
Bob never left his place behind me until 
Bob 
The Tale of a Homely 
Tho Lovable 
Country Dog Who 
Possessed 
an Unusual Degree 
of Intelligence 
By F. I. SHERMAN 
we entered the woods. Then he trotted 
off, poked his head into all the fallen 
treetops, investigated every little clump 
of bushes, and finally got out of sight 
altogether. Ten minutes later his 
sharp, short bark came from another 
part of the woods. 
TURNED toward it, remarking, 
“Blast that dog! He has a ground 
squirrel treed and will scare all the 
game out of the woods with his bark.” 
T pushed my way through the thick un- 
derbrush in the direction of the bark. 
Suddenly whirr, whirr, whirr, went the 
grouse, seemingly out of every tree and 
bush in the neighborhood. Bob took it 
very good-naturedly and trotted off 
into the woods. Evidently he had 
hunted with awkward so-called sports- 
men before. 
A few minutes later I heard his bark 
again. This time I approached more 
cautiously. At last I saw him sitting 
unconcerned in a little open place in 
the woods. Motionless he sat, save that 
every now and then he would raise his 
head and give a short sharp bark. On 
a bush a few rods from him stood a 
large cock grouse, his head up, his neck 
stretched, evidently an interested list- 
ener to Bob’s canine music. Bang! 
The concert ceased, the grouse was 
bagged, and Bob trotted off once more. 
IS bark soon sounded through the 
woods again. This time he had an 
audience of three; two were bagged. 
And so on until we had captured several 
very fine ruffed grouse. 
Soon I heard his bark again, this 
time it seemed to be moving. It came 
closer. I was trying,to make out what. 
this could mean, when a-rabbit darted 
across the opening before me and en- 
