“Now, then,” whispered the guide, lifting the dog in the air, so that he could look over the thicket behind which they had crept for concealment, “do you hear ’em in thar? If yer sartin ye do, go in and fetch ’em out.”
He placed the dog upon the ground, and the little animal was off like a shot. He ran with surprising swiftness across the intervening space, and disappeared in the grove, which presently began to echo with his shrill bark.
This was followed by an increased commotion in the bushes, and Oscar’s first thought was that the insignificant little beast was driving the elk away; but Big Thompson must have had a different opinion, for just then he laid his hand on the boy’s arm, and said, in a very low tone:
“He’s found ’em. Get yer we’pon ready, kase he’ll fetch ’em out in plain sight afore long.”
And so it proved. The lordly elk, finding themselves pursued by so small an animal—the like of which they had never seen before—stopped and stared at him with great curiosity; and finally, becoming annoyed by his constant yelping, they began to show their displeasure by stamping their fore feet on the ground and making short dashes at him.
As fast as they advanced, the dog retreated in the direction of the willows in which the hunters were concealed; and a few minutes later he came pell-mell out of the bushes, closely pursued by one of the does.
Then Oscar saw, for the first time, what the dog’s tactics were. As soon as the doe stopped, he wheeled about and began barking at her again, keeping just far enough away to be out of reach of her dangerous hoofs, and close enough to annoy her.
The rest of the herd came out, one after the other—there must have been twenty-five or thirty of them in all—and the last one that appeared was the big elk.
He took up a position between the doe and his companions; and, after making one or two unsuccessful efforts to strike him with his hoofs, stood still and shook his horns at him. The animals were all so much interested in Pink and his movements that they did not seem to think of anything else.
“What do ye think of that mis’able leetle cur dorg now, perfessor?” whispered the guide, as Oscar cocked his rifle and raised it slowly and cautiously to his shoulder. “Take all the time ye want, and don’t shoot till yer hands is stiddy and ye kin git a fair squint. If they don’t wind us, Pink’ll fetch ’em right into—— I say, ye done it, didn’t ye?”