I did not doubt that help would come; if my appeal was received, even by an Indian, he would be sure to take it to the nearest agency or Police post, even if he did not understand a word of the writing. I had very little hope, of course, that my four-footed messenger could be made to understand what I wanted him to do—but I had no other resource.
Before driving him away I repeated often the two words, “George” and “Home,” at the same time pointing through the open door in the direction of the trail to town. George was my old troop chum, and was just about as fond of the dog as I was.
For a long time I could not get Jim to leave me, until I sat up in bed, pretending to be very angry, and threw my boots at him. Then he trotted away a few hundred yards, stopped and looked back expectantly; but when, instead of calling him back, I again yelled “Go home” in the fiercest voice I could assume, he reluctantly started on again, and finally disappeared.
For a long time I expected every minute to see my faithful companion poke his head into the door again, but as hour after hour went by and there was no sign of his return, I was forced to the joyful conclusion that he had indeed understood what was wanted of him, and was on his way to bring help.
How I got through that terrible day I do not know. I had had nothing to eat or drink for about thirty hours; my head was aching excruciatingly; my throat was parched and burning, and I knew I was in a high state of fever. Looking back afterward, I believe I must have been suffering from delirium.
At length darkness settled down, and I knew the dog must have gone on, or he would have been back long ago. Then I racked my brain trying to figure out how long it would be before help could come. Toward morning I thought I heard a dog barking in the distance, but put it down to a disordered brain, for my head continued to ache most dreadfully and my tongue seemed to be too large for my mouth. Then I fell asleep, and dreamed that poor old Jim was sitting on my chest crushing the life out of me.
In my struggle to throw him off I awoke. It was broad daylight, and the first object I saw was Jim standing on his hindlegs with his forepaws on the edge of my cot, licking my face as he used to do when he thought it was near Reveille and time for me to get up.
But my joy at seeing him was turned to fury when my eyes lighted upon his collar. There was my desperate appeal for help tied around his neck just as it was when I had sent him forth! I wrenched the packet away, almost choking him in my rage, and with a piece of wood I picked off the floor I dealt him a blow on the head that stretched the poor dog senseless.