Mr. Wheeler’s home was broken up, for Mrs. Wheeler had passed away,
leaving no one but her husband, as there were no children.
Mr. Wheeler was alone but not lonely, for he still had Jack, his
faithful setter; and there was a cat, but she had been Mrs. Wheeler’s
pet.
His dog Jack was a good hunting dog, and hunting was his master’s
favorite sport. So they two, having similar tastes, were on intimate
terms, and at all times were quite congenial.
After disposing of his little shop, Mr. Wheeler decided he would follow
the trail to California. He purchased a Ford with money from the sale
of his small stock of merchandise; he rented his home and, leaving the
cat with the Widow Higgins, who lived next door, was ready to pack for
the trip. His gun was cleaned, and his camping outfit made ready. All
necessary equipment for an extended trip was gathered up, and a supply
of provisions laid in.
How eager Jack was about all these preparations! He felt very
important, too, having been given to understand that he was a partner
in this enterprise.
Jack, being a pointer and setter, as most hunting dogs are, would _set_
in the evening, after the day’s work was done, with his nose pointed
toward the setting sun, while he dreamed of the great times they would
have when they did finally get started.
The cat was on hand and wanted to go along, it seemed. But Jack saw to
it that she was left behind. He chased her up a tree and barked good-by
to her.
Dogs of this kind, although loyal friends, are of one-track minds. In
Jack’s mind was just one idea, and that was to be in the game with his
master. He had no regrets at leaving the old home where he was born and
raised. The master was all that counted. Home to him meant only to be
able to eat out of his master’s hand and to lie at his master’s feet.
That the dogs he was used to playing with would miss him, affected him
not in the least.
Finally, Jack was perched on the seat beside Mr. Wheeler; the gun
was handy; they were ready to go. Giving everything a final looking
over, they started on their trek across the intervening states to
California--gun, dog, man and pipe, all essential to each other’s
happiness.
It was about the first of October, the most delightful time to travel.
The days were ideal. The trees were in their most gorgeous fall
colorings, yellows deepening into rich browns and tans, vivid scarlets
softened to maroons; greens of every shade--one glorious riot of color.
The master’s eyes took in these autumnal glories, but most of the time
they were fixed straight ahead on the road, to make sure of good going.
As for Jack, what did he care for nature’s color scheme? The color of a
chipmunk or a jack rabbit meant much more to him.
There were also many other things of interest to look at. Of course
the dogs were the chief attraction. Jack had not known there were so
many kinds. He saw big dogs and little dogs of every description; and,
wonder of wonders, one small dog was actually being carried along the
street in a lady’s arms! Another was all dressed up, with some kind of
a coat on, and a brass collar. Poor things, to be so hampered!
In one town, he saw a little fluffy white thing coming down the street,
with a ribbon bow on top of its head, just like the little Higgins girl
wore. A dog dressed up like a girl! Could anything be worse? He tried
to pat himself on the back, so glad was he that he was just a common
dog.
School was out for the noon recess as they passed a large school
building, and Jack was astonished at seeing so many children. He didn’t
care particularly for children, not having been raised with them. He
liked to romp with the little Higgins boys once in a while, when there
was nothing more interesting, such as a hunting trip, on hand. Those
boys were good sports, who could throw a ball just about right for him
to see it stop, so he could get it easily and take it back to them. But
this noisy, scrapping crowd--they might be all right, but he was glad
there were none of them in his family.
Now they were leaving the town and, driving up under some trees,
they stopped for lunch. Eating lunch in the car with his master
was a privilege. Not many dogs enjoyed one like it, but his was an
exceptional master.
Once more they were on their way, and there would be no more stops
until camping time. He might as well turn around a couple of times, lie
down, and go to sleep. After this nap, he felt refreshed and more alert
to passing objects. So many automobiles, where were they all coming
from, and where were those others all going? Big cars and little cars,
of every make and description, all seemed to want to get there first.
How glad Jack was that his master was in no hurry! In fact, Mr.
Wheeler never was known to be in a hurry about anything. This jogging
along just suited Jack, too, and gave him time to make observations
that would be impossible if they were tearing along. In every way his
master was a comfortable person to live with; he would always stick to
this good master.
Some of the other cars had dogs in them, and some were loaded with
children. One fact that impressed Jack was that the larger, more
comfortable, and apparently softer cushioned cars contained the
smallest dogs, while the poor old flivvers, with the floppy curtains
and wheezy engines, seemed to carry all the tired looking women and
children. Also, if a faithful dog were brought along, he was compelled
to ride in the most uncomfortable position on the running board,
getting dust in his eyes and cramps in his legs.
While Jack pitied these poor unfortunate fellows, he was thankful that
such was not his fate.
There was one large car that fairly dazzled his eyes with its shining,
silver mountings. A negro was driving, and, as the car passed, Jack
noticed that the only person in it was a very fat lady. On a silk
pillow beside her was a mite of a dog, no larger than a skinned rat
would be, but it was covered with a bushy coat of soft, silky hair,
and looked like an over-grown, woolly worm. Jack was fond of teasing
woolly worms, and that was why he thought of the comparison.
They were now approaching a long stretch of open country, and getting
further away from familiar scenes. The cornfields, with corn in shocks,
and yellow pumpkins strewn over the ground, bordered both sides of
the road. Jack rabbits, quail and chipmunks were scampering in all
directions, stirring Jack to a quiver of excitement. Wouldn’t his
master stop and take a shot at them?
Then, just in front of them, sitting in the middle of the road, with
its back to the oncoming car, he spied a fine specimen of a jack
rabbit. Stopping the car, Mr. Wheeler cautiously took aim, and up in
the air went the cottontail. With a bounce, Jack was there to catch it
as it came back to earth, and he brought it to the car. Now, they would
have fresh meat for supper, and how hungry he was!
They established their camp in a byroad. While the tent was being
pitched, Jack was as helpful as he could be, lying on the loose ends
of the canvas to keep the wind from blowing it away; at least, that
was his idea of it. To be sure, his master said he was in the way, but
masters are sometimes mistaken. Everything being set, and the rabbit
browning nicely on the little camp stove, the smell made Jack’s mouth
water with anticipation.
Then, what should drive up but a rickety old flivver, with a tired
looking, thin lady, and a number of hungry children along with a
cramped-up dog! They were a sorry lot from “York State,” bound for the
“land of sunshine,” where the thin lady, who was really ill, hoped to
regain her health. Jack was wishing they had hastened along.
Mr. Wheeler, being a kind-hearted man, welcomed the newcomers. As there
were little children, and the mother looked so ill, his ready sympathy
was aroused and he asked them to join him at his meal; and he was glad
that he had something nourishing to offer them, in the way of coffee
and rabbit, with plenty of bread and gravy for the little ones. It made
him happy to see these hungry travelers eat until they were satisfied.
Jack did not enter with his master into the spirit of this benevolence.
Instead he grew sulky, as nothing had been left for him but a few well
picked bones. Feeling that Fate had played him an unkind trick, he
felt revengeful, and that he must have satisfaction from some source.
So he proceeded to take it out on the stiff-jointed dog. Going to the
side of the car where the poor fellow was lying, Jack began sniffling
contemptuously. All of his virtuous feelings concerning this crowd were
gone. The other dog assumed an indifferent air, which only aggravated
Jack more.
He began snapping at his victim’s heels, and that started it; the fight
was on, which showed there was some spunk left in the other dog, even
if he did not look the part. Over and over they rolled, snapping and
snarling, and biting at one another. Jack, being the larger, seemed
to be gaining on the under dog, when the blood of his adversary, who
was part bull, began to boil, and grasping Jack by the neck, he held on
with a death grip. At this turn of the battle, the owners of the two
dogs came running up. They brought with them pails of water, sticks,
and everything at hand that could be used to separate the fighting
canines. Each began by beating the other’s dog, protesting that if one
must be killed, it must not be theirs.
The lady brought an umbrella and helped, notwithstanding her weakened
condition. Forcing the umbrella between her dog’s jaws, she managed to
loosen his hold on Jack’s throat, by spreading it enough to break his
grip. Jack then, feeling that the victory was his, retreated to have
his wounds dressed.
This little unpleasantness was a dampener on the newly formed
friendship between Mr. Wheeler and his guests. He felt that no longer
did he wish to continue the acquaintance of these people, so he asked
them to move on. They refused, and so he decided to break camp.
[Illustration: “The Fight Was On”]
Mr. Wheeler made ready to continue on his trip. By this time the
moon had risen, and, as there was less traffic than during the day,
he decided he would drive on, as he would really make better time by
doing so. He felt depressed by the circumstances that had forced an
unpleasant ending to a perfect day; but he had learned a lesson from
these events that would prove valuable on the rest of the journey.
Jack was trying to sleep on the back seat cushion. His back was sore;
his pride was hurt, and, if that dog on the running board had been any
stiffer than he felt, he hoped to know it.
The night driving was pleasant. The roads were smooth, and only
occasionally Mr. Wheeler had to pull out for a passing car. Soon his
spirits rose and, as they went on through the villages, he noticed the
lights were cheerful. At some places there was music and dancing, and
the ring of merry laughter filled the air.
It was after midnight when our travelers drove into a sheltering clump
of scrubby oaks to spend the rest of the night. Mr. Wheeler, rousing
Jack from off the back seat, curled up there himself and went to sleep.
By morning, Jack was feeling better. Being in good health, he soon
recovered from his skirmish with the strange dog. His throat was still
sore, and the skin was torn, but it was healing nicely, and so was his
pride.
The next night was uneventful, so they rested and were refreshed. They
pushed on toward town for breakfast. Jack was allowed to eat on the
back porch of the restaurant, after which he hopped into the front seat
beside his master, ready for more observations.
They were now going through the prairie country, and they saw prairie
dogs sitting on their haunches, looking like sentinels beside their
homes. Jack would have liked a chance at one of them, to give it a
good shake, but his wounds would not allow him to attempt it. Two jack
rabbits were shot. Even in this sport, he was not feeling “peppy”
enough to take part, although by supper time he was sufficiently
recovered to enjoy his share of the good cheer. This time he got real
meat. The bones were left, not even buried, which showed he was not
really himself yet.
By the time the city of Denver was reached, Jack was fully recovered
and very alert. Mr. Wheeler ran the car into a garage for repairs, and
they started out to see the sights while waiting. As they were near
the Capitol building, Mr. Wheeler thought he would like to go to the
top, as all tourists do. Of course, Jack was not allowed to accompany
him. An officer gave Jack permission to lie on the lawn and watch the
squirrels at play.
Though he did not feel quite right about going without his dog, Mr.
Wheeler began the ascent. When he reached the topmost balcony, he
looked down to where he had left Jack. Imagine his horror at seeing the
dog chasing one of the squirrels up a tree and barking his lustiest
at it. He also saw an officer running toward Jack, and then beating
him with a club until the dog howled louder and louder. Mr. Wheeler
descended as fast as he could, which, on account of the narrowness of
the steps, it was hard to do; and he found that the dog catcher had
been called to take Jack to the pound. Nothing would do but that Mr.
Wheeler must go along and settle with the chief.
Jack was loaded into a cage with a lot of other dogs. They were all
snarling and snapping, but at heart they were very good dogs, who had
been guilty only of some thoughtlessness, or some small fault perhaps
that they did not know was wrong. Poor Jack!
The waiting room at the chief’s office was filled with irate men and
women who had come to claim their various pets. All were sure a great
injustice had been done; a great mistake had been made in taking up
_their_ dogs.
Time dragged along for poor Jack. He thought he had been having trouble
enough, since he had started on this pleasure trip, without this; and
it all came about just because he was following a natural impulse,
something for which he was in no way responsible. What a nuisance their
old laws were, anyway!
Finally the room cleared, and Mr. Wheeler had a chance to present his
case, and get Jack released. How glad Jack was that his beloved master
had been watching, and was able to go with him and help him out of his
predicament!
The next problem was how to get to the car, as the pound was in the
outskirts of the city, and Jack would not be permitted to ride on the
street car. Also it was much too far to walk. Something must be done
quickly, for it was getting late. Beside the dog pound was a settlement
of a certain class of merchants of the street, venders of old clothes,
rags and old iron, necessary commodities of a sort, and there the
horse-drawn vehicle was the mode of transportation.
While Mr. Wheeler was debating in his mind what to do, along came one
of these merchants driving a half-starved horse. Noticing the look of
perplexity on Mr. Wheeler’s face, he inquired, “What’s the trouble,
Boss?” Then a bright idea entered Mr. Wheeler’s head. He told the
man of his desire to get to another part of the city, but that he
had no way to do so, and he wondered if it would be possible for the
merchant to take them. The merchant, having had a rather bad day in his
business, consented, thinking that here would be a way to make accounts
balance. They did some quibbling over the charges, which Mr. Wheeler
thought very “steep,” for he was asked to pay two fares for both of
them. As he could not very well help himself, he agreed to the price,
and they started. Thus they returned to their lodging.
Next morning, after both had enjoyed a good breakfast, they set out on
the last lap of their journey. Following the old Santa Fe trail, they
found the country they were passing through very interesting. Jack kept
his eyes open and his ears pricked up.
He was attracted by the Indian Villages, where dogs were numerous and
all seemed to be living happy-go-lucky lives. Really they looked too
lazy to come in out of the rain, if it ever should rain, which it
didn’t; therefore they were deprived of even this exercise.
For a long stretch nothing much occurred to interest them.
By noon they were nearing another town, a Mexican settlement. More lazy
dogs were seen lying under any shelter that afforded shade from the
blistering sun. Jack wondered what these dogs lived on. They looked
well fed, for Mexican dogs, that never get fat. Seeing strings of
something red hanging on fences and from nails driven into the houses,
he wondered if it was meat. If so, where did they get it? If only his
master would stop long enough, he would have liked to sample some of
this drying beef. But Mr. Wheeler was getting very tired, having all
the driving to do, and was anxious to get to his journey’s end. He
would welcome the sight of the green pepper trees he had heard so much
about. He was planning on stopping for a long rest at the first tourist
camp they came to, and so he did as little stopping on the way as
possible.
At last our travelers reached the land of sunshine and flowers. They
were tired and travel-stained, but glad to be at their journey’s end.
Their first night at the camp was a new experience. It seemed like a
neighborhood meeting of some sort, all were so friendly and willing to
tell of their experiences. Almost every one Mr. Wheeler met had either
been through the town of Woodville, Iowa, or knew some one from there,
or some one who had passed through there, so he felt quite at home
among them.
Many had brought their dogs along, but Jack, after his experience with
the strange dog during their trip, was more cautious about making
advances. He had learned that the best policy was “to live and let
live,” and so he got along very well with these dogs.
After getting rested and learning where was the best place for them to
locate, man and dog moved into a pleasant suburb of one of the larger
towns, taking rooms with a friendly widow, who was fond of dogs but
cared very little for cats, which was agreeable to Jack. Now, he would
get plenty of good things to eat and lots of attention. Although Jack
was strictly a man’s dog, the arrangement suited him very well indeed.
One of the first things his master had to do was to buy a license for
Jack. The dog must wear a collar with a number on the back, or some day
the dog catcher would get him again. Jack was not very proud of his new
collar, but, since collars were being worn, he must conform and get
used to being a city dog.
Jack and the landlady, whose name was Mrs. Weir, became quite good
friends, though he refused to be trained to any new habits. His old
ones were good enough for him.
Mr. Wheeler, having good prospects of going into business, concluded
to return to Woodville, sell his home, and locate permanently in
California. Therefore he made preparations for the return trip and was
soon ready to start. Jack, of course, was disappointed at not being
included in the arrangement. He was left with Mrs. Weir, who was to
give him every needed attention. He was tied up till Mr. Wheeler was
well on his way, and did some lusty howling, which he kept up until
the neighbors protested, and he was given his liberty.
No sooner was he loose than he took up the trail in pursuit of his
beloved master. However, as Mr. Wheeler had several days’ start, it
was impossible, even if he had made no stops, for Jack to overtake
him. Jack did stop many times. He got very tired and hungry, having to
depend on his own efforts for food. Most of his nights were spent in
prowling around, hunting for a possible loosely covered garbage can, to
get a meal. When he was out in the open spaces, he would catch any wild
game he could. This all caused delays, so that, by the time he reached
his old home town, his master was well on his way back.
Jack was very glad to see all the Higgins family, even the cat, and
never once during his stay did he chase her up the tree, nor in any
way annoy her. He had seen much of the world since last they met, and
travel had broadened and made him more considerate of others, as a well
mannered dog should be.
He was not satisfied--the place wasn’t the same--and he missed his
master. So in a few weeks he was missing. Then, some months later,
Mrs. Higgins received a letter from Mr. Wheeler saying that Jack had
returned to California. Though very thin in body, he seemed none the
worse for his adventures.
All the dogs thought this was a very fine story, and begged the Judge
to tell them some more. So, at the next session, he told them a couple
of brief narratives, one about a puppy and young turkey, and another
about a blind man’s dog.