er dark. Of course my return was a great
surprise to my folks, and we sat up late telling stories about things
out West. I had worked with cattle all the time, and had made one trip
over the trail from Collin County to Abilene, Kansas.

"My folks questioned me so fast that they gave me no show to make any
inquiries in return, but I finally eased one in and asked about my dog
Keiser, and was tickled to hear that he was still living. I went out and
called him, but he failed to show up, when mother explained his absence
by saying that he often went out hunting alone now, since there was none
of us boys at home to hunt with him. They told me that he was no account
any longer; that he had grown old and gray, and father said he was too
slow on trail to be of any use. I noticed that it was a nice damp night,
and if my old dog had been there, I think I'd have taken a circle around
the fields in the hope of hearing him sing once more. Well, we went back
into the house, and after talking awhile longer, I climbed into the
loft and went to bed. I didn't sleep very sound that night, and awakened
several times. About an hour before daybreak, I awoke suddenly and
imagined I heard a hound baying faintly in the distance. Finally I got
up and opened the board window in the gable and listened. Say, boys,
I knew that hound's baying as well as I know my own saddle. It was old
Keiser, and he had something treed about a mile from the house, across
a ridge over in some slashes. I slipped on my clothes, crept downstairs,
and taking my old man's rifle out of the rack, started to him.

"It was as dark as a stack of black cats, but I knew every path and
byway by heart. I followed the fields as far as I could, and later,
taking into the timber, I had to go around a long swamp. An old beaver
dam had once crossed the outlet of this marsh, and once I gained it,
I gave a long yell to let the dog know that some one was coming. He
answered me, and quite a little while before day broke I reached him.
Did he know me? Why, he knew me as easy as the little boy knew his pap.
Right now, I can't remember any simple thing in my whole life that moved
me just as that little reunion of me and my dog, there in those woods
that morning. Why, he howled with delight. He licked my face and hands
and stood up on me with his wet feet and said just as plain as he could
that he was glad to see me again. And I was glad to meet him, even
though he did make me feel as mellow a