BOWSER PROVES HIMSELF OF SOME USE.
Sam Harper saw, from the position of the sun in the heavens, that he had
stayed longer than he intended to in the cabin, and the short afternoon
was drawing to a close.
He therefore moved at a brisk walk for a quarter of a mile, Bowser
trotting at his heels as though he thought such a laborious gait
uncalled for; but, as the lad then observed that the large limestone was
not far away, he slackened his pace, and sat down on a fallen tree to
rest.
"This is a queer sort of a hunt," he said to himself, "and I don't see
what chance there is of any one of us three doing anything at all.
Bowser isn't worth a copper to hunt with; all there was in him expended
itself when he chased the buck and let it get away from him--hallo,
Bowser, what's the matter with you?"
The hound just then began acting as though he felt the slighting
remarks of his master, and meant to make him sorry therefor.
He uttered several sharp yelps and began circling around the fallen tree
on which Sam was sitting. He went with what might be called a nervous
gallop, frequently turning about and circumnavigating the lad and the
log in the opposite direction.
All the time he kept up his barking and demonstrations, now and then
running up to Sam, galloping several paces away, and then looking toward
him and barking again with great vigor.
Sam watched his antics with amusement and interest.
"He acts as though he wanted me to follow him from this spot, though I
cannot understand why he wants me to do that, since he is so lazy he
would be glad to lie down and stay here till morning."
Studying the maneuvers of the hound, Sam became satisfied that the brute
was seeking to draw him away from the fallen tree on which he was
sitting.
The dog became more excited every minute. He trotted back and forth,
running up to his young master and then darting off again, looking
appealingly toward Sam, who finally saw that his actions meant something
serious.
"I don't know why he wishes me to leave, but he has some reason for it,
and I will try to find out."
Sam slowly rose from the fallen oak tree on which he was sitting, and as
he did so his cap fairly lifted from his head with terror.
He caught the glint and scintillation in the sunlight of something on
the ground on the other side of the trunk, and separated from him only
by the breadth thereof, at the same instant that his ear detected the
whirring rattle which told the fact that an immense rattlesnake had
coiled itself therefor, and had just given its warning signal that it
meant to strike.
Sam Harper never made such a quick leap in all his life as he did, when
he bounded several feet from the log, with a yell as if the ground
beneath him had become suddenly red-hot.
There is nothing on the broad earth which is held in such universal
abhorrence as a snake, the sight of which sends a shiver of disgust and
dread over nearly every one that looks upon it.
When Sam sat down on the fallen tree, he was probably almost near enough
for the coiled _crotalus_ to bury its fangs in him. It reared its head,
and, without uttering its customary warning, most likely measured the
intervening space with the purpose of striking.
The instinct of Bowser at this juncture told him of the peril of his
master, and he began his demonstrations, intended to draw him away from
the spot. At the same time, his barking, and trotting back and forth,
diverted the attention of the rattlesnake to the hound, and thereby
prevented him striking the unsuspicious boy.
It must have been, also, that during these few minutes the serpent
vibrated his tail more than once, for the nature of the reptile leads
him to do so; but the sound could not have been very loud, as it failed
to attract the attention of Sam until he rose from the log and turned
partly about.
The boy moved around the head of the fallen tree, so as to place
himself on the same side with the rattlesnake, and then he spent a
minute or two in contemplating him at that safe distance.
He was a large one, with sixteen rattles and a button. He lay coiled in
several perfect rings, with his tail softly vibrating and his head
thrown back, as if he expected his enemy to come nigh enough for him to
bury his curved needle-like fangs in some portion of his body, injecting
his poison, so deadly that nothing could have saved the boy from dying
within a few minutes.
The first natural feeling which comes over one when he sees a crawling
snake is to kill it, and Sam Harper did not wait long before yielding to
his inclination.
Standing less than a rod distant, he brought his gun to his shoulder,
and sighted at the head of the venomous reptile, which was held almost
stationary, while the crimson tongue darted in and out as if it were a
tiny spray of blood.
The aim was true, and the head was shattered as though the cartridge
had exploded within it. The body made a few furious writhings and
struggles, and then became still.
Sam viewed the ruin he had wrought for a minute or so, and then,
appreciating the service his dog had wrought him, he turned and patted
the animal.
"You're a fine dog, Bowser, and I forgive you for being good for
nothing."