“He always runs free, and will not harm a fugitive unless ordered to do so. You understand that he and I are chums, and I have never used him to chase a criminal. He roams through the country, and I keep him on edge by such tests as to-day. He is so familiar with my scent that he will pick it up instantly, without first sniffing articles I have worn. The other day I played a mean trick on him. I left him at the Samoset House on Mouse Island and started for Boothbay Harbor on the steamer Wiwurna, but instead of getting off at the wharf, I slipped over the gunwale at the rear, and Captain Free McKown took me on board his motor boat Edith which was lying near, and started back to Mouse Island with me. Just before reaching the dock I met the Norman II starting for Boothbay and seated on his haunches at the prow was Zip. I was not expecting to see him and I should have got out of sight, but he discovered me and emitted the most dissatisfied howl I ever heard. It said as plain as so many words, ‘You played me a low down trick, and I don’t like it.’ He would have sprung overboard and tried to swim to me, had I not forbidden him. Perforce he went on to Boothbay and came back on the Norman II. I was in my room when he scratched on my door and I admitted him. He was so mad that he refused to eat the meat prepared for him, and pouted the rest of the day. I apologized and coaxed, and by night had won back his favor and the cloud between us passed away.”
CHAPTER XVIII — A Match of Wits
It may be said that Zip had become the hero of the Boy Scout camp on Gosling Lake. He belonged to the finest breed of bloodhounds in the world and had given an illustration of that gift of his species which approaches the miraculous. The stories told by his master of his other exploits, and of what had been done by his kind on Long Island and elsewhere, were absorbingly interesting. As young Burton remarked, his study of this canine species had given him more knowledge than could have been the case otherwise, and he naturally did most of the talking on that cool August night in front of the bungalow. The bloodhound is one of the most dignified of dogs, and resents anything in the nature of familiarity by strangers. Alvin, Chester, Mike and several others tried to make friends with Zip, but he showed them plainly that he preferred to be left to himself.
“Ef it was meself that was as partic’lar as him to selict me associates,” said Mike, “I should faal mighty lonely, as Jim O’Toole remarked after he had been lost for six weeks in the woods. I’ll remimber yer coolness, Zip,” he added, shaking his finger at the dog nestling at the feet of Burton, “and to-morrer ye’ll faal so ashamed, after ye try to match wits wid me, that ye’ll resign as a bloodhound and become a poodle dog for the rist of yer days.”
“Don’t boast too soon,” said the guest; “I’ll put my stake on Zip every time.”
“And so will I,” added Alvin; “if Mike was half as smart as he thinks he is, we should all be fools compared with him.”
“Some folks don’t naad the comparisin to show they’re lacking in the first ilimints of sense,” retorted the Irish youth with fine sarcasm.
It was quite late when the boys retired for the night. No one would have objected to the presence of Zip in the bungalow, but his master preferred that he should spend the night outdoors, and he was waiting there the next morning when Burton, the first to arise, came out to have a romp with him before breakfast.
It was about eight o’clock that the whole party of Boy Scouts including their guest gathered on the front porch, eagerly interested in the test that was to be made of the skill of Zip the bloodhound in following a scent. Every one was on the qui vive, for the novelty of the proceeding appealed to them.
The arrangements, simple of themselves, had been made while the party was at breakfast. Three trials were to take place, involving that number of Boy Scouts. Each was to plunge into the woods and use every device possible to hide his trail from the dog, which was to take up his task an hour after the fugitive, as he may be called, left the bungalow.