"Where did he get them? Why, that's the cur'ous part of it. We never could find it out from Maje; but there was a paper in the basket sayin': 'From a Friend.' But how Maje came to be acquainted with him just at that time, I don't see—do you, Mister?"
It often happens that dogs of no special breed, poor outcasts of the canine family, show the most remarkable characteristics.
A fire company in New York had for years a dog that was as faithful in its duties as any of the men, and on several occasions it called the attention of patrolmen to places where fires were smoldering. A certain drayman in the same city had a dog that spent its time upon the horse's back, and seemed to delight in exhibiting its equestrian skill. I have often seen the dray going down Broadway, the dog on the horse's back but keeping his place with difficulty when the horse moved rapidly.
XV.—A DOG THAT COULD CLIMB TREES.
By C. F. H.
A friend of mine who lived in the Sierra Madre Mountains had a collie that was an inveterate tree-climber, and woe to the squirrel that climbed up a trunk that Jack could scale. Of course straight trees were out of the question; but one that grew at an angle of forty-five degrees, and had a rough bark, was quickly mounted by the collie.
This curious habit was the result of his passion for squirrel-hunting, and the moment one of those little animals would dart up a favorable tree, Jack was after it, scrambling up so high that he was often found by his master thirty or forty feet from the ground, barking fiercely at the squirrel, which had sought refuge on a limb beyond the reach of the dog. In returning, Jack would settle close to the tree-trunk, and back down, inch by inch, exercising great precaution, well knowing that with his short claws he was at a disadvantage. When within a few feet of the bottom he would slide and scramble to the ground.