XXIII
MRS. BOB-WHITE AND THE HUNTING DOG
At the very peep of day Collie Dog and Setter Pup started out on a hunting trip of their own. Collie Dog called the place "my farm" and he had told his friend of all the wonderful sights there were to be seen on the place by a dog who could travel alone and do as he wanted. It was his habit, he said, to be abroad very early; sometimes, indeed, he would run over the fields and along the shore, or back into the woodland, for miles and miles before breakfast.
"And what do you do that for?" Setter Pup asked. For this youngster was just from the city, and he was not used to these country ways. "We never get up until long after the man with the milk cans has gone by the door, and the postman has come and gone," he yawned. "That's the proper thing in town."
Collie Dog laughed in a courteous way.
"And we get up before the milk cans start for town," he said. "That is, some of us do. But they'll take you out early enough when the hunting begins. And you'll be pointing birds all day in the fields and the swamps."
Setter Pup waved his tail proudly, for he meant to be a great hunter. That was why they had him in the country now—to teach him all sorts of things about guns and what to do when he smelt a covey of birds.
But Collie Dog was no hunter, being more of a scholar and a poet. His master, at any rate, had read him a great deal of poetry. And much of the poetry had been of a nature to discourage hunting; which was just what the doggie's master liked to do. He was thoroughly in sympathy with his pet, who couldn't endure a gun, either the sight or the sound of it. But, much as the gentleman knew about the fields and the woods, he would have known more could he have understood what Collie Dog would have loved to tell him. For that gentle dog was on the best of terms with every living creature for miles around. His early morning expeditions were always but so many rounds of visits.
Consequently, the newcomer, this eager and noisy young setter, was to make many new acquaintances on this daybreak excursion with Collie Dog.
Down the lane from the barn to the pasture they romped, the dew drenching their flanks as they brushed the tall weeds and bushes. Setter Pup, with his ears flapping in excitement, was plunging heedlessly ahead when Collie Dog called him back.
"Go easy here! We are sure to hear something," Collie Dog whispered.
And suddenly, while they walked almost on tip-toe, there came from the very edge of the field, a clear, ringing call:
"Bob! Bob! Bob!"
"Why, who can be down here in the hayfield at this time of the morning?" Setter Pup asked in surprise.
"Just wait!" laughed Collie Dog, delighted.
"Bob, Bob, Bob-White!"
The voice was as clear as a boy's.
"That's my best friend out here," Collie Dog explained. "It's little Mr. Partridge."
Then very quickly the beautiful, trim little Mr. Partridge hopped clear of the tangled grass and stood gaily on the fence-rail. He was speckled and shapely and his eyes were full of wonderful humor. But he caught sight of the strange dog, and was gone in a second. Then, to Setter Pup's great astonishment, there were many little voices, and wild scuttlings in the very path ahead of him. And two beautiful partridges, their wings apparently broken, were hobbling along almost before his very nose. They were dying, as it seemed.
Setter Pup was all for seizing them. Two such crippled creatures were easy prey. But his instincts were, after all, of another sort; for, although he had never done it before, he stood stock still and pointed his nose straight at the birds, his tail stretched out like a long plume behind him.
Collie Dog shook with laughter.
"Well, that gun shooting master of yours would be proud of you if he could see you now," he said. "You're pointing straight as a weather vane. But we're not out hunting birds this morning. Come here, and I'll show you something."
Setter Pup dropped his tail and stepped back. Then Collie Dog came softly up to the little birds that were cowering in the path. They knew him well enough. Even if he was a dog, he was a friend; and if there is a creature who knows a friend and would be on terms of friendship with the whole world it is Mr. Bob-White.
They were even pleased to meet young Setter Pup, when they found out that he was staying at the farm. They could not believe that a personal friend of their wonderful Collie Dog could be ill-disposed to such as the partridge family.
And Mr. Bob-White talked about "our farm" exactly as though it were his own. He said that he and his family could surely keep down the potato bugs that year; and that if it could only be known what his intentions were in this matter of eating up the pests that canker and destroy, he was sure no one would want to kill him.
"You always say that, poor Mr. Bob-White, and how I pity you," the gentle Collie Dog replied. For he was as quick to weep as to laugh, being so refined a dog. "And it's a shame. My master reads to me all about you. And we get very indignant when we think of how you are the one thing that these farmers can depend upon to eat up more bugs than anybody else could ever devour. You're so much better than poison and all the rest of the truck they sprinkle around."
"Yes; the poison just washes off in the rain. My family, if only we could be let alone, would do it all. Didn't you tell me that my cousin down in Texas ate up all the boll weevils in a county full of cotton?"
"That's the truth," answered Collie Dog. "Master read it to me. But you're safe enough on this farm anyway. You know that. My friend Setter Pup is not going to hunt here at all."
"And I shall never hunt partridges—never!" declared Setter Pup, who was sadly distressed. "I wish I had never been born"—he was crying now—"if I have to hunt down such folks as Mr. Partridge." For poor Setter Pup had found that he possessed a heart; and that discovery is the most distressing one in the world.
"Oh, you'll get over that," Collie Dog comforted him. "You'll have to. Your master will attend to you. But I'm sorry for you. And just look at these baby partridges."
One by one, as Mrs. Partridge had clucked to them, in a little voice like the ticking of a tiny clock, they had crept up to her. Ten little chicks there were, of a light brown, and nothing but fluffy down and beady eyes. One of them hopped right out from in front of Setter Pup, where it had hidden under a leaf.
"Good gracious!" he exclaimed. "There was that chicken, and I never saw it at all!"
"No," Collie Dog replied; "you would never guess where they go to when their mother gives the alarm. And then she runs off and tempts you to kill her. She hobbles and cries and lies down to die right at your feet. My own mother, who was a Scottish noblewoman, being an Argyle, used to say that she never saw such a wonderfully devoted mother as Mrs. Bob-White."
With a gay farewell to Mr. Partridge, the sprightly dog was off. And Setter Pup went racing after him. For there was much to see, and the sun was already clear and golden. The grass shone in waves of green, and as the dew dried there came the loveliest odors of wild honeysuckle and clover. It was a time to be gay, and Collie Dog did not want to have his young friend depressed. There were some wonderful mud-holes to visit, where they could get just as cool and as dirty as they pleased.
"And when the mud dries off," Collie Dog explained, as they plunged through the bushes, "your coat will shine as though it had been brushed."
It was a wonderful romp that they had in the mud-hole, deep in the swampy meadow, under the blackberry vines. And when they came out, disgracefully dirty, to dry themselves under a China-berry tree, they were rolling over and over on the grass, when a funny little voice called out from the branches overhead:
"Hello, Mr. Dog!"
Setter Pup jumped to his feet; but Collie Dog only looked up into the tree.
"'Morning, friend 'Possum; and how's your family to-day?"
"Oh, they're doing fine. Twelve of them and all getting plump. We like your turnip patch very much."
Then he laughed; a squeaky little laugh it was; and Collie Dog seemed to enjoy the joke too, for he sat up with a smile.
"Come on down and let's see you die," he requested. "My friend has never seen a 'possum play dead."
"No, indeed, Mr. Collie. I don't know your friend—and I don't think I care to. He's a hunting dog. But I'll die right here on this branch, if that will amuse you."
So Mr. 'Possum threw himself into a wonderful attitude and looked as dead as dead could be. His head hung over the branch and his mouth lolled open, and his little paws were all curled up.
"How queer!" Setter Pup exclaimed. "I suppose he's satisfied that nobody but a buzzard would touch him now. What a dandy trick!"
"It fools 'em, all right," said Collie Dog, who always delighted in this performance.
Then Mr. 'Possum winked a sly wink and slid like a big rat along the branch to a hollow place in the tree.
"He's gone in. Probably his wife wanted him."
And then Collie Dog was off again, bounding and racing across the field, with Setter Pup keeping beside him.
Miles they went, through the country. Young Setter Pup saw more than he ever had guessed could be seen. There was Mr. Blacksnake, who raced like mad over the leaves, making an astonishing noise. He carried his head very high and went such a zigzag course that the dogs lost sight of him.
"He's an ugly fellow, too, but he can't hurt you. He makes a funny noise with his tail, rattling it on the leaves if you corner him. He wants you to think he's a rattlesnake. But it's only a clever trick," said Collie Dog. "Sometimes on that sandy piece of road we've just passed, we'll come across Mr. Hognose. He's a queer little snake. He can scare you terribly by puffing and blowing, so that you would think he was very dangerous. But he can't bite at all, nor hurt you as much as a cat. He plays off at being dead too, just like Mr. 'Possum. But he never crawls out till the sun is high. He likes the heat. I've met him a great many times, but always when it was hot."
By this time it was a glorious morning, and as the two dogs trotted down the wood road and along the river bank, the birds were calling from every side.
"I like to come this way," Collie Dog went on. "There's a redbird, a very aristocratic cardinal, who flies ahead of me every time. He's had a whole story written about himself. Master's read it aloud to me. Does your master read aloud to you?"
Setter Pup was somewhat embarrassed.
"We read about guns and cartridges and Canadian guides, and fishing tackle," he admitted.
"H'm!" mused his companion. "Destructive, of course. Right in your line. But not my style. We prefer the other kind, my master and I. But not everybody can be a poet, of course."
Just then the cardinal-bird darted out of the honeysuckle and flew ahead of them, and in an instant a brilliant bluebird followed him.
"They fly together just that way. Master says they must like each other's color. Aren't they beautiful?"
And then, before they knew it, the birds were gone; and Setter Pup was surprised to see that this river path had been the way home, for they were almost at the farm door.
"If I could only go hunting with you instead of with those guides and guns," Setter Pup began; for evidently there was something on his mind and he wanted to talk.
But Collie Dog just wagged his tail. He understood. There was nothing to be said, for a dog owes everything to his master, and there are many kinds of masters. Besides, the door was open and there were voices upstairs. Setter Pup's owner was calling across the hall to his host.
"He ought to make a fine pointer. His mother was a prize bird dog, you know."
Poor Setter Pup looked wistfully at Collie Dog as they flopped down on the floor.
And Collie was truly distressed. But, then, as he often asked himself:
"What could a poor dog do?”