After we got all the truck back from the house on the river, and stowed it safely away, we clumb up to our cavern and made camp for the night. Me and Jim talked a good while, then decided who should stand the first watch, because we didn’t want anyone coming around our place on the sly. Jim tried to insist on sitting up first, but I wouldn’t have it. He most likely wouldn’t wake me for my shift if I went later, and it warn’t fair for him have to set up all night. That decided, Jim rolled on into bed, and I took up my post out by the mouth of the cavern.
After a couple hours, Jim was asleep and snoring, while I was listening to the night sounds of the river. As always, the crickets were the loudest noise this time of year. The water gave a steady thrum behind the chirrups, while a light wind made its way through the trees. But then I heard something that didn’t belong in this melody. Away down below our camp, I heard the whining of a dog. A dog out here by itself wouldn’t be logical, so immediately I began to watch the woods for people. I doused the fire, so not to attract any more attention, but didn’t bother to wake Jim, at least not yit. I wanted to make sure everything was clear before I went to moving about. I sat frozen while I scanned the ground. I stayed there for a good hour or so, never seein' no one, and all the time the whining of that blamed dog down below.
Finally, I satisfied myself that no one was out there, and went on over to Jim to tell him I was goin' to go git that dog and quiet him down. Jim waked up and the first thing he asked was if everything was alright. I said course it was and that I was going down to git a dog.
"What dawg, Mars Huck?"
"Why the one that's down below our camp. Can't you hear him."
"I's ben sleepin' Mars Huck. How's I s’pos'd to heah a dawg?"
"Well, blame it all, I don't know. It's no matter now, anyhow. I'm going to go and bring him up here so he'll quit his whining. It wouldn't do for him to attract any body over this way."
"How's you gwyne git him up heah?"
"Same way as we come. If we can get up here with two feet, he should be able to manage with four."
So I left and shinned on down to where I had heard the whining. I looked around for a dog, but didn't see none. I couldn't think of where the blamed thing could have gotten to, until I felt a nose snuffling around my legs. I looked down and was more than a bit surprised with the size of the creature. He was no bigger than a large house cat. He was colored all white but for two brown patches over his eyes and a spot on his side. He was a scruffy mutt, but I figured maybe he was still jist a pup, so I stuffed him in my shirt and carried him on up to our camp, for I figured he couldn't git up by himself, being small as he was.
When Jim laid eyes on that dog, he declared, "Why, Mars Huck, dat hain't no dawg, dat's a cat!"
"Don't you know nothin', Jim? He's a bird dog, but he's still a pup, yit. I'm a'going to train him!"
"I hain't never laid eyes on any sech dawg dat look like dat, 'fore. How you rek'n he got hisself ove’ heah, Huck?"
"Probably swam the river, jist like anyone else would."
Jim shook his head, then said it was his turn for watch and sat himself down out front. I took the dog back to where I had my bed rolled out and told him to lay down. He just stood there and stared at me, with his head cocked sideways, like dogs do.
"Fine," I said. "Stand there if you like. I'm goin’ to bed."
He barked and wagged his tail. I grunted at him and rolled over and went to sleep. I waked up later and found that dog curled up down by my feet. "Blamed dog," I said with a grin as I turned over and went back to sleep.
~~
In the morning, I waked up to find Jim standing over the fire cooking up some breakfast. That dog was over there, too, keeping his eye on the food in the skillet. I rousted myself out of bed and went over to the fire myself. Jim looked up, saw I was about, then pointed to the dog and said, “Dat dawg ben se’in’ der ever sence I started to rustle ‘roun’ en dem pack bags af’er some breakfast. What you s’posin’ dat he wants, Huck?”
“He’s probably hungry. We’ll give him something to eat when we’re done.”
A little while later, while we were in the middle of breakfast, there came a tremendous clatter from back of the cavern. Jim and I both whirled ‘round to see what it was, and found that little dog standing in the middle of a pile of what used to be a nice stack o’ truck. He was nosin’ around in all our stuff, and shredding a lot of what he come to.
“Hey! Dog! Get out of there!” I hollered at him. He merely looked up, all casual like, holding a piece of meat in his jaws, as if I hadn’t said anything at all.
“Gimme that, you!” But that dog ignored me as much as he would a stump. So I made up my mind and jumped for him, but he took that meat and ran right past me and Jim. He humped himself on out of the cavern and on down to the ground, ever so smartly, and took off for the high hills as far as I knew.
“I’s jist knew dat warn’t no dawg. Dat be a thief!” Jim said, watching the creature go off through the underbrush.
I decided right then that if that dog ever showed himself here again, I’d have nothing to do with him and I’d send him on his way.
~~
Later that afternoon, just finishing cleaning up the mess left by that blamed creature, me and Jim heard a whining bark down below our place again.
“Ye rek’n dat he’s back, Huck?”
“Yes, I do figure that’s him out there.”
So I went on over to the lip of the cavern, looked down, and sure enough, there he was. Just begging to come back up.
“Get outta here you lousy food thief!” I hollered down at him. He merely barked and started trying to make his way up to the cave.
“Dat one’s got determination, ef I’d says so myself, and I’s says so,” Jim commented from behind me. “I’d also says ef he kin make it up heah by hisself, he deserves to stay fer awhile longer, wouldn’t ye rek’n, Mars Huck?”
I sighed and allowed him that point. It was maybe another 30 minutes before we heard or saw that dog again. Once he got up into the cavern he run on over to me and tried to make up, jist like he knew I was still mad at him. I finally gave in and squatted down to pet the little trickster.
Then Jim says, “I thinks he needs a name, Huck.”
“You’re right. And I have one that suits him perfectly.”
“What’s dat, Huck?"
“Well, I’m goin’ to call him Deuce, being the rapscallion he is.”
“Dat does him mighty fine justice, der Huck. Now what ye gwyne do wid him?”
“Well, I’m goin’ to go out and start his training. If ya want a dog to have any field sense at all, you’ve got to start ‘em young.”
“Dat does soun’ right to me, Huck. I’s jist gwyne stay ‘roun’ heah en do some mo’ fixin’ up o’ dis place, ef ye doan’ min’.”
I didn’t, so I took Deuce and went on down to the ground to begin his training to be a bird dog.
~~
We finally came to a place ‘bout a mile or two off from our camp, that’d be satisfactory to find some birds in. I had brought along the gun so as to be able to shoot a bird to teach Deuce the scent on. After ‘bout fifteen minutes I saw a raven and shot him. I then told Deuce, “Get the bird, Deuce! Get the bird!” He just stood there and stared at me with his head cockeyed. Apparently he had no bird brain at all. So I walked on over to where the raven lay and said, “C’mere, you. See this? This is what you’re suppos’d to bring back to me so I don’t have to walk all the way over here and get it.” He just gave me a blank stare while wagging his tail. I shook my head in bewilderment while picking up the bird. I thought maybe if I tossed it for him he might get the idea and go and get it. I threw the raven about ten feet out in front of where we were and told him again, “Go get the bird, Deuce! Get it!” He looked at me a moment, then surprised me by actually going out to the bird. He picked it up tentatively, and kept standing where he was. “Yes! Good boy! That’s it! Now bring it here.” That’s when that rascal of a dog shook that bird for all its worth, and took off for the high hills.
“Deuce!! You little thief! You’re suppos’d to bring it back to me!!” But my calls were fallin’ on deaf ears as he run off into the brush and disappeared. I thought ‘bout goin’ after him, but figured it warn’t no use, he’d just outfox me again. I finally decided to head back to the cavern and call it quits with that blamed dog and his strange behaviors.
~~
“Mars Huck! You’re back! Whar’s de dawg?”
“He run off again, Jim.”
“Agin! What you gwyne do wid dat dawg, Huck? Ye can’t have ‘im takin’ off wid de truck like dat all de time.”
“I know it. I figure if he comes back this time, I’m just going to take him into some town up the river a ways and see if anybody wants him. Can’t keep him out here, if he keeps stealin’ all our food.”
A few hours later, and sure enough, that dog showed up again at the foot of our camp. I went over to where he could see me and hollered down, “You want up here? You can shin up here yerself!” And I turned back, went and sat down.
Just a little while later, there was Deuce, sitting at my feet, as if nothing in the world had happened. “Look at you!” I scolded him. “Trying to act like you’re innocent! You can’t fool me, you rapscallion! You still got feathers in your mouth!” With that, Deuce got up, sneezed, shook, then went over to Jim, trying to find a warmer welcome.
I grunted in disgust, before I got up and went over to where all the truck from the house was stowed. I pulled out some clothes that we’d got from our scavenging, and put them on. They were a bit big, but it’d have to do. “I’m goin’ to go up the river a mile or two in the canoe, Jim, and take this little thief with me.”
“Awright, Mars Huck. I hain’t gwyne go nowheres.”
I glared down at that little mutt, and said, “You! C’mon. We’re goin’ to town.” He barked and wagged his tail happily. Probably thought we were going out and play another game of ‘you shoot the raven, and I run off through the woods with it never to be seen again.’
I shinned down the face of the cliff, with Deuce right behind me, and made my way to where the canoe was stashed. Once Deuce was in and settled, I shoved off and paddled to the far side of the river, heading up stream a mile or two. After a while, we came to a small town, and I decided that it looked like a good dog-friendly community, so I went for shore and tied up alongside the bank in a bunch of brush.
I found the road leading to town, so I followed it. After a bit, I noticed someone coming down the road towards Deuce and me. When we got closer, the person stopped. It appeared to be a woman who was quite upset over something. But when she laid eyes on that blamed dog, she fairly exploded with joy. And that dog, he seemed to know her to, because, by golly, he ran and leaped into that woman’s arms. I just stood there dumbfounded.
The woman exclaimed, while hugging the dog furiously, “Oh Pookums! Pookums!! I found you! I’ve been sooo worried about you! Where ever have you been? And look at you! You’re all dirty! And, whew! You stink, too!”
After a while more of this, the woman finally seemed to notice me standing awkwardly on the side of the road. “Are you the boy who found my Pookums? Thank you so very much!”
“He just kind of showed up, ma’am, and wouldn’t go away. I tried his luck at fetching birds, but he jist warn’t no good at it, ma’am.”
“’Course he warn’t no good at it! He hain’t no bird dog! He’s a purebred, registered Jack Russell Terrier! He’s got papers.”
“Why, you mean he’s full-growed?”
“That’s right he’s full-growed. And he’s just the cutest little thing!” she said while sticking her face right down in his. This I thought was very strange, but didn’t say nothin’. After all, it was her dog and her face.
“Well, ma’am, I best be goin’. I’ve got to git along home now, ‘fore I git a tannin’ for being out so late.”
“Hold on a minute. There was a reward out for finding my little Pookums. Here you are,” the woman said while handing me a quarter.
“Thank you,” I said briefly, while turning on my heel before that dog could do anything else on the sly.
~~
Later I was tellin’ Jim all ‘bout how I run into the woman while I was on my way into town.
“Ye mean te tell me dat she gave ye a quarter fer dat dawg?”
“It was a reward for him, Jim.”
“En ‘t was full-growed?”
“That’s what she was claimin’.”
“Well, I’ll be. Ole Jim was right! Dat warn’t no huntin’ dawg!”
End
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