It was Quick, also, who spurred the flagging energy of the larger dogs in tiresome runs, though often to their hurt, as will be seen, and had generally managed to lead his friends into the few misdeeds of which they were guilty. Though Mr. Wolf appeared to be the leader because of his size and heavy weight, he was really quite subject to Quick’s commands, and the most confiding and intimate relations existed between the pair. They shared both bed and board, and it was a study in dog love to see the expression of impertinence that Quick usually wore change to one of complete adoration as he gazed up in the face of his big friend, standing on tiptoe to lick his nose.
As to Colin, the big, blundering red setter, with the beautiful eyes and the silky hair, his use was as general encourager when the hunt flagged; for though in the course of a long life, and he lived into his fifteenth year, he never caught anything wilder than a frightened chicken or disabled rabbit, yet he was never discouraged, starting off each day with the joy of first experience, and if the party caught nothing, he would retrieve a stick of decayed wood, a bit of old leather, or even a spruce cone and carry it to Miss Jule on his own account.
Upon one occasion, being left in the rear by the others, he came upon a wood-duck that had lain dead for some time in the pond meadow. After rolling on it very thoroughly in the manner of dogs and wolves, to identify themselves with their finds in the noses of other dogs, he succeeded, after much difficulty, in bearing it home and into the dining room during a company tea, where he laid it at Miss Jule’s feet. He had such an expression of bringing a gift worth having upon his face, that also wore a broad grin, that no one, even among the guests, had the heart to scold him, but politely held their breaths and noses while Miss Jule called Colin “a good fellow,” and escorted him out, accompanied by the duck in a dust-pan. She also allowed him the crowning joy of burying it, which he did as a matter of course, instead of casting it ignobly on the refuse heap, which would have not only hurt his feelings, but have given him the extra trouble of retrieving it a second time, and so prolonged the odour.
When Ben Uncas & Co. hunted ground beasts their methods were wholly different from their pursuit of tree climbers. Of ground beasts the woodchuck and muskrat seemed the most interesting quarry, and of climbers the breed of vagrant wildcats and the coons of Pine Ridge were the favourites. The native tailless bob-cat or red lynx was now so rare as to be, like the rattlesnake, almost a hearsay beast of imagination, seen only by the people who, carrying brown jugs, took a short cut through the Den woods on their way home from the cider-mill, and paused to rest on the way.
There were many old fields and orchards between Happy Hall and the Hilltop Kennels, and when Ben Uncas & Co. organized for hunting, three years before this time, there was barely a five-acre lot without its woodchuck family, while Waddles’s old bugaboo, the skunk, called scent cat by its comrades through fearsome politeness, inhabited stone fences and tumble-down cellars at will. In fact, one pair were so bold as to raise a litter under the henhouse at Pinkie Scott’s, in order to be conveniently near a poultry and egg market, while Pinkie petted and fed the little things, mistaking them for queer black and white kittens, until one evening, when Hans Sachs was with her, their mother came back and objected. Then Pinkie’s illusion and the skunk family were dispelled together.
Of course people trapped skunks, and they were more or less hunted by other dogs, but to the method of Ben Uncas & Co. belonged the honour of having freed the entire hillside of the pests, even though as individuals they had often been obliged to retire to private life in consequence.
Anne and Tommy had never been able to follow a skunk hunt closely enough to see exactly how it began, but one thing was certain, it was always Quick who, jumping upon the animal’s back, gave the sudden shake to the neck that settled the question just as he did with a rat, at the same time taking extra care not to be bitten; for to be bitten by a skunk is one of the “mustn’t be’s” of dog law, and a calamity they are careful to avoid, while they are quite reckless about the more powerful chisel teeth of both woodchuck and muskrat.
The woodchucks were less easily exterminated even though they are more abroad by day, for not only are their homes more difficult to reach, but when living in a colony they usually post sentinels at the entrances of their burrows. Several times, when the settlements in the old fields and orchards had been scattered, new families from other places seemed to move into the empty burrows. Then again woodchucks hole up in middle autumn and stay wholly out of reach until spring, so they are never driven to take the risks during the hard winter months that drive so many of the wood fourfoots recklessly into the open for food.
A wily old woodchuck is a hard animal to chase, clumsy though it is, it knows so many twists and turns and paths back to its burrow. It is a still harder one for a small dog to kill, owing to the toughness of its skin, the layer of fat that covers its vital parts at most seasons, and the ferocity of its attack when at bay and thoroughly aroused, its nose being really its most vulnerable spot.