“Golly,” ejaculated Scip, “I bet I’d run!”
“Humph,” said Wild Nat, contemptuously, “ye mought run an’ be hanged. Much good it would do ye. I had a dorg in them days, an’ by virtew of his sooperior powers as an animile, I managed tew sarcumvent the critter. He war a powerful animile, thet dorg war. He’d run a leetle the fastest of any thin’ out. Lay to: this meat’s done.”
“What sort of a dog?” asked Scip, as he obeyed the trapper’s orders.
“Hound,” replied Nat; “he’d ketch a live deer in forty rods when the deer had ten rods the start. Howsomever,” added the trapper, “thar war one disadvantage about him. He’d git tired. After a run of ten miles he war clean tired out. But, he would go like lightnin’. Take it on open ground an’ he couldn’t well be beat. It’s dangerous runnin’ dorgs in the woods. Bill Stevens hed a splendid hound thet would jist measure sile tew beat all. When thet critter got a-goin’ it war hard tellin’ what he war, for all ye could see war a streak, an’ I’ve seen a streak ahind thet dorg twenty yards long, he went so fast; ’peared like he spread over thet distance like a komit’s tail, ye know. But his speed war the ’casion of a great catastrophe, to him. Howsomever, it war a gain in the long run.”
“What was it?” asked Kent, laughing, as the trapper paused to help himself to another piece of meat.
“It happened in this way. We war out huntin’ one day, an’ got arter a deer. It war in the woods, an’ the dorg got his eye on the game an’ war jist streakin’ it over the ground, an’ bein’ so engaged he didn’t notice whar he war goin’ an’ so happened tew run ag’in a tree an’ split him clean in two, length-ways. Bill jist run up an’ grabbed up the pieces, an’ clapped ’em together, an’ the dorg started on. As he started, Bill see’d the mistake he’d made, but it war too late then. In his hurry he’d clapped the dorg together so two legs war up an’ two down, an’ though he felt sorry at the time, he see in a short time thet it war a great advantage, for when two of his legs got tired the dorg jist whipped over on t’other two, an’ kep’ on same as ever.”
Shouts of laughter greeted the recital of this extraordinary occurrence, but the trapper never relaxed his grave aspect, standing with the utmost gravity amid the peals of laughter which convulsed the remainder of the company, apparently unconscious that he had said any thing particularly funny or incredible.
“See here, Nat,” said Wayne, as Vic proceeded to cut off some portions of the bear-meat, “why did you order us to drop on our knees before you fired?”
“For this,” said the trapper. “I warn’t sure how the beast would act. Thet’s the Injin way of doin’. All git on their knees, an’ when the grizzly comes up one of ’em tackles him, an’ thet draws his attention, an’ then the others pile on tew him, an’ he’s gener’ly dispatched ’thout any one gittin’ ser’usly hurt. It’s all the way ye kin do when ye don’t hev guns, or a chance to use ’em ef ye do hev ’em.”
“Exactly,” replied Kent. “I understand now, but it strikes me I shouldn’t like to have a battle with one every day.”