CHAPTER XXIX.
OUR LAST NIGHT TOGETHER—THE REMARKABLE SHED-TAIL DOG—HE RESCUES HIS MISTRESS, AND BREAKS UP A MEETING—A SKETCH OF TERRITORIAL TIMES BY GRIPE—MONTGOMERY'S EXPEDITION FOR THE RESCUE OF JOHN BROWN'S COMPANIONS—SCALPED, AND CARVING HIS OWN EPITAPH—AN IRISH JACOB—"SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST"—SACHEM'S POETICAL LETTER—POPPING THE QUESTION ON THE RUN—THE PROFESSOR'S LETTER.
Supper over, we made an engagement with our hospitable friends for their presence at a sort of "state dinner" we proposed giving the next day, and then returned to our own camp. A number of the settlers soon came strolling in, and among them one bringing a most remarkable dog, of the "shed-tail" variety. The animal was well known to fame in that section, for having attacked some Indians who had taken his mistress captive and were endeavoring to place her upon one of their ponies, and so delaying them that the neighbors were able to arrive and give rescue. It was claimed that thirty shots were fired at him without effect, which, if true, proved that either those Indians were exceedingly bad marksmen, or that the small fraction of caudal appendage which the beast possessed acted as a protective talisman.
We had often seen dogs without tails, but previous to this had always supposed that a depraved human taste, not nature, was at the root of it. Tail-wagging we had considered as much the born prerogative of a dog as a laugh is that of man. It is true some men do not laugh, but the child did. A dog's tail embodies his laughing faculty, or rather one might call it a canine thermometer. It rises and falls with his feelings, in moments of depression going down to zero between his legs, and again rising when the canine temperature becomes more even.
"That thar dorg, stranger, is of the shed-tail variety," said its owner, when we solicited information. "Whole litter had nothin' but stumps. Killed most on 'em off, 'cause, havin' nothin' to wag, visitin' people couldn't tell whether they was goin' to bite, or be pleased. Some time ago, a travelin' school-teacher giv' him a plaguy Latin name, but we call him Shed, for short. He knows, just as well as you and I, that he 's in the wrong, latterly, and as soon as you look at him, or touch where the tail ought ter be, he hides and howls. He 's sensitive as a human."
Saying this, our new acquaintance leaned over the dog, which was lying asleep, and gave the animal what he called a "latterly touch." Although it was but the gentle contact of a finger tip, the poor creature jumped up, uttered a dismal howl, and fled off among the wagons.
"That dorg," continued the owner, "would be one of the best critters out, if it wasn't for his short cut. He 'll fight Injuns, or wild cats, and take any amount of blows on his head, if they 'll only avoid his misfortin.'"
We remarked that he seemed to have been shot in the side, some time.