the outlet-第33部分

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The　dancing　ceased　the　moment　the　banquet　was　ready。　The　cooks　had　experienced　considerable　trouble　in　restraining　some　of　the　boys　from　the　too　free　exercise　of　what　they　looked　upon　as　the　inalienable　right　of　man　to　eat　his　pie　when；　where；　and　how　it　best　pleased　him。　But　Sponsilier；　as　host；　stood　behind　the　culinary　trio；　and　overawed　the　impetuous　guests。　The　repast　barely　concluded　in　time　for　the　wranglers　and　first　guard　from　Forrest's　and　my　outfit　to　reach　camp；　catch　night…horses；　bed　the　cattle；　and　excuse　the　herders；　as　supper　was　served　only　at　the　one　wagon。　The　relieved　ones；　like　eleventh…hour　guests；　came　tearing　in　after　darkness；　and　the　tempting　spread　soon　absorbed　them。　As　the　evening　wore　on；　the　loungers　gathered　in　several　circles；　and　the　raconteur　held　sway。　The　fact　that　we　were　in　a　country　in　which　game　abounded　suggested　numerous　stories。　The　delights　of　cat…hunting　by　night　found　an　enthusiast　in　each　one　present。　Every　dog　in　our　memory；　back　to　early　boyhood；　was　properly　introduced　and　his　best　qualities　applauded。　Not　only　cat…hounds　but　coon…dogs　had　a　respectful　hearing。

〃I　remember　a　hound；〃　said　Forrest's　wrangler；　〃which　I　owned　when　a　boy　back　in　Virginia。　My　folks　lived　in　the　foot…hills　of　the　Blue　Ridge　Mountains　in　that　state。　We　were　just　as　poor　as　our　poorest　neighbors。　But　if　there　was　any　one　thing　that　that　section　was　rich　in　it　was　dogs；　principally　hounds。　This　dog　of　mine　was　four　years　old　when　I　left　home　to　go　to　Texas。　Fine　hound；　swallow　marked；　and　when　he　opened　on　a　scent　you　could　always　tell　what　it　was　that　he　was　running。　I　never　allowed　him　to　run　with　packs；　but　generally　used　him　in　treeing　coon；　which　pestered　the　cornfields　during　roasting…ear　season　and　in　the　fall。　Well；　after　I　had　been　out　in　Texas　about　five　years；　I　concluded　to　go　back　on　a　little　visit　to　the　old　folks。　There　were　no　railroads　within　twenty　miles　of　my　home；　and　I　had　to　hoof　it　that　distance；　so　I　arrived　after　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　as　a　girl　over　a　baby。

〃Well；　when　daybreak　came；　I　shot　a　nice　big　fat　Mr。　Zip　Coon　out　of　an　old　pin…oak；　and　we　started　for　home　like　old　pardners。　Old　as　he　was；　he　played　like　a　puppy　around　me；　and　when　we　came　in　sight　of　the　house；　he　ran　on　ahead　and　told　the　folks　what　he　had　found。　Yes；　you　bet　he　told　them。　He　came　near　clawing　all　the　clothing　off　them　in　his　delight。　That's　one　reason　I　always　like　a　dog　and　a　poor　manyou　can't　question　their　friendship。〃

A　circus　was　in　progress　on　the　other　side　of　the　wagon。　From　a　large　rock；　Jake　Blair　was　announcing　the　various　acts　and　introducing　the　actors　and　actresses。　Runt　Pickett；　wearing　a　skirt　made　out　of　a　blanket　and　belted　with　a　hobble；　won　the　admiration　of　all　as　the　only　living　lady　lion…tamer。　Resuming　comfortable　positions　on　our　side　of　the　commissary；　a　lad　named　Waterwall；　one　of　Sponsilier's　boys；　took　up　the　broken　thread　where　Forrest's　wrangler　had　left　off。

〃The　greatest　dog…man　I　ever　knew；〃　said　he；　〃lived　on　the　Guadalupe　River。　His　name　was　Dave　Hapfinger；　and　he　had　the　loveliest　vagabond　temperament　of　any　man　I　ever　saw。　It　mattered　nothing　what　he　was　doing；　all　you　had　to　do　was　to　give　old　Dave　a　hint　that　you　knew　where　there　was　fish　to　be　caught；　or　a　bee…course　to　hunt；　and　he　would　stop　the　plow　and　go　with　you　for　a　week　if　necessary。　He　loved　hounds　better　than　any　man　I　ever　knew。　You　couldn't　confer　greater　favor　than　to　give　him　a　promising　hound　pup；　or；　seek　ing　the　same；　ask　for　one　of　his　raising。　And　he　was　such　a　good　fellow。　If　any　one　was　sick　in　the　neighborhood；　Uncle　Dave　always　had　time　to　kill　them　a　squirrel　every　day；　and　he　could　make　a　broth　for　a　baby；　or　fry　a　young　squirrel；　in　a　manner　that　would　make　a　sick　man's　mouth　water。

〃When　I　was　a　boy；　I've　laid　around　many　a　camp…fire　this　way　and　listened　to　old　Dave　tell　stories。　He　was　quite　a　humorist　in　his　way；　and　possessed　a　wonderful　memory。　He　could　tell　you　the　day　of　the　month；　thirty　years　before；　when　he　went　to　mill　one　time　and　found　a　peculiar　bird's　nest　on　the　way。　Colonel　Andrews；　owner　of　several　large　plantations；　didn't　like　Dave；　and　threatened　to　prosecute　him　once　for　cutting　a　bee…tree　on　his　land。　If　the　evidence　had　been　strong　enough；　I　reckon　the　Colonel　would。　No　doubt　Uncle　Dave　was　guilty；　but　mere　suspicion　isn't　sufficient　proof。

〃Colonel　Andrews　was　a　haughty　old　fellow；　blue…blooded　and　proud　as　a　peacock；　and　about　the　only　way　Dave　could　get　even　with　him　was　in　his　own　mild；　humorous　way。　One　day　at　dinner　at　a　neighboring　log…rolling；　when　all　danger　of　prosecution　for　cutting　the　bee…tree　had　passed；　Uncle　Dave　told　of　a　recent　dream　of　his；　a　pure　invention。　'I　dreamt；'　said　he；　'that　Colonel　Andrews　died　and　went　to　heaven。　There　was　an　unusually　big　commotion　at　St。　Peter's　gate　on　his　arrival。　A　troop　of　angels　greeted　him；　still　the　Colonel　seemed　displeased　at　his　reception。　But　the　welcoming　hosts　humored　him　forward；　and　on　nearing　the　throne；　the　Almighty；　recognizing　the　distinguished　arrival；　vacated　the　throne　and　came　down　to　greet　the　Colonel　personally。　At　this　mark　of　appreciation；　he　relaxed　a　trifle；　and　when　the　Almighty　insisted　that　he　should　take　the　throne　seat；　Colonel　Andrews　actually　smiled　for　the　first　time　on　earth　or　in　heaven。'

〃Uncle　Dave　told　this　story　so　often　that　he　actually　believed　it　himself。　But　finally　a　wag　friend　of　Colonel　Andrews　told　of　a　dream　which　he　had　had　about　old　Dave；　which　the　latter　hugely　enjoyed。　According　to　this　second　vagary；　the　old　vagabond　had　also　died　and　gone　to　heaven。　There　was　some　trouble　at　St。　Peter's　gate；　as　they　refused　to　admit　dogs；　and　Uncle　Dave　always　had　a　troop　of　hounds　at　his　heels。　When　he　found　that　it　was　useless　to　argue　the　matter；　he　finally　yielded　the　point　and　left　the　pack　outside。　Once　inside　the　gate　he　stopped；　bewildered　at　the　scene　before　him。　But　after　waiting　inside　some　little　time　unnoticed；　he　turned　and　was　on　the　point　of　asking　the　gate…keeper　to　let　him　out；　when　an　angel　approached　and　asked　him　to　stay。　There　was　some　doubt　in　Dave's　mind　if　he　would　like　the　place；　but　the　messenger　urged　that　he　remain　and　at　least　look　the　city　over。　The　old　hunter　goodnaturedly　consented；　and　as　they　started　up　one　of　the　golden　streets　Uncle　Dave　recognized　an　old　friend　who　had　once　given　him　a　hound　pup。　Excusing　himself　to　the　angel；　he　rushed　over　to　his　former　earthly　friend　and　greeted　him　with　warmth　and　cordiality。　The　two　old　cronies　talked　and　talked　about　the　things　below；　and　finally　Uncle　Dave　asked　if　there　was　any　hunting　up　there。　The　reply　was　disappointing。

〃Meanwhile　the　angel　kept　urging　Uncle　Dave　forward　to　salute　the　throne。　But　he　loitered　along；　meeting　former　hunting　acquaintances；　and　stopping　with　each　for　a　social　chat。　When　they　finally　neared　the　throne；　the　patience　of　the　angel　was　nearly　exhausted；　and　as　old　Dave　looked　up　and　saw　Colonel　Andrews　occupying　the　throne；　he　rebelled　and　refused　to　salute；　when　the　angel　wrathfully　led　him　back　to　the　gate　and　kicked　him　out　among　his　dogs。〃

Jack　Splann　told　a　yarn　about　the　friendship　of　a　pet　lamb　and　dog　which　he　owned　when　a　boy。　It　was　so　unreasonable　that　he　was　interrupted　on　nearly　every　assertion。　Long　before　he　had　finished；　Sponsilier　checked　his　narrative　and　informed　him　that　if　he　insisted　on　doling　out　fiction　he　must　have　some　consideration　for　his　listeners；　and　at　least　tell　it　within　reason。　Splann　stopped　right　there　and　refused　to　conclude　his　story；　though　no　one　but　myself　seemed　to　regret　it。　I　had　a　true　incident　about　a　dog　which　I　expected　to　tell；　but　the　audience　had　become　too　critical；　and　I　kept　quiet。　As　it　was　evident　that　no　more　dog　stories　would　be　told；　the　conversation　was　allowed　to　drift　at　will。　The　recent　shootin