Argosy All-Story Weekly, November 13, 1920 — page 110: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

288 dogs that have made their kind famous wherever sport for sport’s sake is followed by those who love the chase for the deep baying of the regal hounds who stick to the trail of the elusive Reynard unceasingly. “So that’s the dog,” said S, Ferdinand sullenly, ‘“‘who’s to make the rest of the pack look sick. He’s the kingpin, eh? The dog that can pick the scent out of the air without seeing the track? But Duane had been kidding us. That dog’s an April-fool joke. Take it from me, he’s a mongrel, pure and simple.” The fellows listened to S. Ferdinand with disgust on their faces. In the party of clean sports he was a misfit. Unfortunately, S. Ferdinand had been invited by Duane, who was the owner of the Golden Arrow Camp because of kinship to him. But S. Ferdi- nand had succeeded in making himself ob- noxious by his loud boasting from the mo- ment of his arrival. Nothing suited him unless he had some- thing to do with it. Everything that he possessed was the best. His two dogs, Jip and. Zip, were, of course, the most perfect fox trailers that would ever chase over the snewy stretches of the Northland. Hence, S. Ferdinand’s reference to Patches as a mongrel. However, the hunters of the Golden Arrow Camp smiled knowingly. Duane had been telling them during the storm that had kept them from hunting that during the last year’s hunt a trapper by the name of Reuben and his dog Patches had been the sensation of the Golden Arrow Camp, and it was upon Duane’s invitation that Reuben and Patches were now coming to join in the hunt. : “Look at him!” shouted S. Ferdinand. Through a cleared space of the frost- rimmed window the hunters saw Reuben ' carefully examining Patches’s feet. From the padded toes he dug pieces of ice. Patches growled a satisfied approval. When his feet were freed from the chilling snow and ice, Reuben led Patches to his warm kennel. “A real horseman,” said Jim Rowland, always looks after his horse first and a good hunter does the same with his dog. So I’m thinking that we’re going to see something in this dog Patches.” ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. The rest of the hunters nodded their ap- proval excepting S. Ferdinand, who smiled with a self-satisfied air of “‘ Pll show him up.< That evening, by the great, roaring fire, Reuben told hunting tales of the North woods. The mighty wind that had drooned the song of the forest was dying down into a swaying sigh that echoed faintly over the ridges and hills. A gentle snow was falling soft and gracefully over the wooded landscape. The dull, broken winter clouds, scurrying underneath the white moon, whose beams gilded the Golden Arrow Camp, presaged a good day for the sly, red. fox that would now be out seeking a satis- fying meal of rabbits or wood mice and thereby leave his trail imprinted in the soft, clinging snow. Before turning in for the night Reuben went out to haye a look at the weather and to see if Patches was comfortable. When the camp door closed on_ him, S. Ferdinand said rather pompously: “Duane, I don’t think much of this fel- low and his dog. He’s a frost.” Duane did not heed S. Ferdinand at all. S. Ferdinand was going to say something more when Reuben appeared from the out- side and he checked himself quickly. Reu- ben’s heavy clothes were flecked with snow- flakes that sparkled like diamonds in the gleam of the camp light. ‘““S. Ferdinand’s a coward, too,” whis- pered Jim Rowland to Duane as they turned in for the night. With the first gray smudge of dawn streaking across the sky, Reuben sprang out of his bunk. Shortly a roaring fire was blazing in the open hearth. On a dish-pan Reuben beat a sleep-banishing tattoo. The hunters tumbled out as Reuben, from the open door, called that: ‘‘ Tracking’s fine to- day.” A hasty breakfast, and with shotguns shouldered the hunters were ready. The woodlands lay white and inviting before them. The hounds tugged at their leashes —all excepting Patches. He knew what the day held in store for him. He remained quiet, saving his strength. The chase, as he had run it many tiges, would call for all of Gomichbooks (E(0)