Complete Story Snap, the Bull-terrier:

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXXII, Issue I, 2 January 1904, Page 10

Complete Story Snap, the Bull-terrier:

THE STORY OF A CHRISTMAS DOG,

By ERNEST THOMPSON SETON, Author of “ Wild Animals I Have Met,” “ Two Little Savages,” Etc.

It was late on Christinas Day when first 1 saw him. Early in the morning. I had received a telegram from my college chum Jack: "Merry Christmas. Am sending you a remarkable pup; be polite to him; it’s safer.” It would have been just like Jack to have sent an infernal machine or a Skunk rampant and called it a pup, so I awaited the hamper with curiosity. When it landed I saw it was marked "Dangerous,.” and ther came from with- “ Dangerous,” and there came from within a high-pitched snarl at every slight provocation. On peering through the wire top I saw it was not a baby Tiger, but a small, white bull-terrier. He snapped at me, and at anyone or anything that seemed too abrupt or too near for proper respect, and his snarling growls were unpleasantly frequent. Dogs have two growls—one, deep, rumbled and chesty: that is meant for polite warning the retort courteous; the other mouthy and much higher in pitch: this is the last word before actual onslaught. The Terrier's growls were all of the latter kind.

I was a dogma n and thought I knew all about Dogs, so dismissing the porter, I got out my all-round jackknife-tooth-shovel —a specialty of our firm—and lifted the netting. Oh yes! I knew all about Dogs, The little fury had been growling out a new kind of growl for •ach tap of the tool, and when I turned the box on its side, he made a dash straight for my legs. Had not his foot gone through the wire netting and held hint I might have been hurt, for his heart' was evidently in his work; but I stepped on the table out of reach and tried to talk to him. I have always believed in talking to animals. I maintain that they gather something of oin’ intention at last, even if they do not understand our words; but the dog evidently put me down for a hypocrite and scorned my approaches. At first he took his post under the table and kept up a circular watch for a leg. trying" to get down. I felt sure I could have controlled him with my eye, but I could not bring it to bear where I was. or rather whore he was; thus I was left a prisoner. I am a very cool person. I flatter myself —in fact, I am a traveller for a hardware firm and we are not excelled by any but perhaps the nosy gentlemen that sell wearing apparel. I lit a cigar and smoked cross-legged on the table while my little tyrant below kept watch for legs. I got out the telegram and read it. “Remarkable pup: be polite to him; it's safer.” I think it was my coolness rather than my politeness that did it, for in half an hour the growling ceased. In an hour he no longer jumped at a newspaper cautiously pushed on the edge to test his humour; possibly the irritation of the cage was wearing off, and by the time T lit my third cigar he waddled out to the fire, and lay down, not ignoring me. however. I had no reason to complain of that kind of contempt. He kept one eye on me, and I kept both eyes, not on him. but on his stumpy tail. If that tail should swing sideways once I might, fee] sure I was winning; but it did not swing. I got a book and put in time on thate table till my legs wore cramped and the fire burned low. About ten o’clock it was chilly, and at half-past ten the fire was out, and my Christmas present got up, yawned and stretched, then walked under the bed, where he found a fur rug. By stepping lightly from the table to the dresser, and then on to the mantelshelf. I also reached bed, and. very quietly undressing, got in without provoking any criticism from my master. I had not yet fallen asleep when T heard a slight scrambling and felt "thumpthump” on the bed; th»n over my feet and legs; Snap evidently had found it too cool down below and pronosed to hpve the best my house afforded.

way that I was very uncomfortable and tried to readjust matters, but the slightest wriggle of a toe was enough to make him snap at it so fiercely that nothing but thick woollen bedclothes saved me from being maimed for life. I was three hours moving my feet—a hair’s breadth at a time—till they were so that I could sleep in comfort, and I was awakened several times during the night by angry snarls from the Dog—l supposed because I dared to move a musele without his approval, though once I believe he did it simply because I was snoring. In the morning I was ready to get up before Snap was. You see I call him Snap—Gingersnap, in full. Some dogs are hard to name and some do not seem to need it; they name themselves.

I was ready to rise at seven. Snap was not ready till eight, so we rose at eight. He had little to say to the man who made the fire. He allowed me to dress without doing it on the table. As I left the room to get breakfast I remarked:

“Snap, my friend, some men would whip you into a different way, but I think I know a better plan. The doctors nowadays favour the ‘no TJreakfast cure.’ ”

It seemed cruel, but I left him without food all day. It cost me something to repaint the door where he scratched it—but at night he was very ready to accept a little food at my hands. In a week we were very good friends. H» would sleep at my feet then and allow me to move without snapping at them with intent to do me serious bodily harm- The “no breakfast cure” had worked wonders; in three months we were-—well, simply man and Dog. Snap seemed to be without fear. If a small Dog came near he would take not the slightest notice: if a medium-sized Dog, he would stick his stub of a tail rigidly up in the air, then walk around him scratching contemptuously with his hindfeet, and looking at the sky, the distance, the ground, anything but the Dog, and noting his presence only by frequent high-pitched growls. If the stranger did not move on at once the battle began, and then the stranger usually moved on very rapidly. Snap sometimes got worsted, but no amount of sad experience could ever inspire him with a grain of caution. Once, while driving in a cab during the Dog show, he caught sight of an elephantine St. Bernard taking an airing. Its size aroused such enthusiasm in Snap’s little breast that he leaped from the cab window to do battle and broke his leg.

Evidently fear had been left out of his make up and its place supplied with an extra amount of ginger, which was the reason of his full name. He differed from all other Dogs I had ever known before- For example, if a boy threw a stone at him he ran. not away, but toward the boy, and if the crime were repeated Snap took- the law into his own hands; thus he was at least respected by all. Only myself and the porter at the office seemed to realise his good points, and we only were admitted to the high honour of personal friendship, an honour which I appreciated more as months went by., and by midsummer not Carnegie, Vanderbilt and Astor together could have raised money enough to buy a quarter of a share of my little Dog Snap. CHAPTER 11. Though not a regular traveller, I went on the road in the autumn, and then Snap and the landlady were left together with unfortunate developments: contempt on his part, fear on hers—and hate on the part of both. I was placing a lot of barb wire in

the northern tier of States. My letter® were forwarded onee a week and I got several complaints from the laudlady about SnapArrived at Mendoza, in North Dakota, I found a fine market lor wire. Of course my dealings were with the big storekeepers, but I went about among the ranchmen to ge‘ their praerieai views on the different styles, and thus I met the Penroof brothers’ Cow outfit.

One cannot be long in the Cow country now without heariug a great deal about the depredations of the ever wily and destructive Gray Wolf. The day has gone by when these animals can be poisoned wholesale and they are a serious drain on the rancher’s profits. The Penroof brothers, like most live Cattlemen, had given up all attempts at poisoning ami trapping and were trying various breeds of Dogs as Wolfhunters, hoping to get a little sport out of the work of destroying the pests.

Foxhounds had failed: they were too thin-skinned for fighting; Great Danes were too slow, and Greyhounds could not follow’ 'the game unless they could see it. Each breed had some fatal defect, but the Cowmen hoped to succeed with a mixed pack, and on the day when I was invited to join in a Mendoza Wolf-hunt I was much amused by the different Dogs that formed the pack. There were not a few mongrels, but there were also a lot of highly-bred Dogs, in particular some Russian Wolfhounds that must have eost a lot of money. Hilton Penroof, the oldest boy, “Tlie Master of Hounds,” was unusually proud of them and expected them to do great things.

“Greyhounds are too thin-skinned to fight a Wolf, Danes are too slow an’ heavy, but you’ll see the fur fly when the Russians take a hand.”

Thus the Greyhounds were there as runners, the Danes as heavy backers, and the Russians to do the important fighting. There were also a couple of Foxhounds, whose fine noses were relied on to follow the trail if the game got out of view.

It was a striking sight as we rode away among the Badland Buttes that December day, the ground bare of snow. The air was bright and crisp and, though so late, there was no frost. The horses were fresh, and once or twice showed me how a Cow-pony tries to get rid of his rider.

The Dogs were keen for sport, and on the plains we did start one or two gray spots that Hilton said were Wolves or Coyotes. The Dogs trailed away at full cry, but at night, beyond the fact that one of the Greyhounds had a wound on his shoulder, there was nothing to show that any of them had been on a Wolf-hunt.

“It s my opinion yer fancy Russians is no good, Hilt,” said Garvin, the younger brother. “I’ll back that little black Dane against the lot, mongrel an’ all as he is.”

“I don’t un’erstan’ it,” growled Hilton. “There ain’t a Coyote, let alone a Gray Wolf, kin run away from them Greyhounds; them Foxhounds kin follow a trail three days old, an’ the Danes could lick a Grizzly.” “I reckon,” said the father, ‘they kin run, an’ they kin track, an’ they kin lick a Grizzly, maybe, but the fae’ is they don’t want to tackle a Gray Wolf. The hull darn pack is scairt—an’ I wish we had our money out o’ them.” Thus the men grumbled and discussed as I drove away and left them. There seemed only one solution of the failure. The Hounds were swift and strong, but a Gray Wolf seems to terrorize all Dogs. They had not the nerve to face him', and so each time he got away; and my thoughts flew back to the fearless little Dog that had shared my bed for the last year. How I wished ho were out here; then these lubberly giants of Hounds would find a leader whose nerve would not fail at the moment of trial.

At Baxoka. my wext atop, I get a batch of mail and two letters from tie-landlady—-the first to say that “thai beast of a Dog was acting up scandalous in my room,” and the other, still more forcible, demanding his immediate removal.

Why not have him expressed to Mendoza. 1 thought. It’s only twenty hrrurs; theyll be glad to have him. i can take him home with me when I go through. CHAPTER IH. My next meeting with Gingersnap was not so different from the first as one might have expected. He jumped on me, made much vigorous pretence to bite and growled frequently, but his stump waggled hard. The Penroofs had had a number of Wolf-hunts since 1 was with them and were much disgusted at having no better success than before. The Dogs could find a Wolf nearly every time they went out but they could not kill him. and the men were not near enough to learn why. Old Penroof was satisfied that “thar wasn’t one of the hull miserable gang that had the grit of a Jack-Rabbit.” We were off at dawn the next day. The same procession of fine Horses, superb riders, the big blue Dogs, the yet low Dogs, the spotted Dogs as before; but there was a new feature, a little white Dog that stayed close by me, and not only any Dogs, but Horses as well, that came too near were apt to get a surprise from his teeth. I think he quarrelled with every man. Horse and Dog in the country with the exception of a Bull-Terrier belonging to the Mendoza hotel man. She was the only one smaller than himself, and they seemed very good friends. I shall never forget the view of ths hunt I had that day. We were on one of those large, flat-headed buttes that give a kingdom to the eye, when Hilton, who had been scanning the vast country with glasses, remarked: “I see him. There he goes, toward Skull Creek. Guess it’s a Coyote.” Now, the first thing is to get the Greyhounds to see the prey; not an easy matter, as they eannot use the glasses, and the ground was covered with sagebrush higher than the Dogs’ heads. But Hilton called: “Hu, Hu, Dander,” and leaned aside from his saddle, holding out his foot at the same time. Dander sprang lightly from the ground, touched the foot and reached the saddle, and there stood balancing on the Horse, while Hilton kept pointing. “There he is, Dander, sic him! sic him! down there.” The Dog gazed earnestly where Ills master pointed; then seeming to see, he leaped to the ground with a slight yelp and sped away while the other Dogs followed after, in an ever-length-ening procession, and we rode as hard as we could behind them, losing time, for the ground was cut with gullies, spotted with badger holes and covered with rocks and sage that made full speed too hazardous.

We all fell behind, but I was last, of course, being least accustomed to the saddle. We could see the Dogs flying oyer the level plain or dropping from sight in gullies to reappear at the other side, and we could see that the procession lengthened out. Dander, the Greyhound, was the recognised leader, and as we mounted another ridge we got A glimpse of the whole chase—a Coyote at full speed—the Dogs a-quarter of a mile behind, but gaining. When next we say them the Coyote was dead and the Dogs sitting around panting — all but two of the Foxhounds and Gingersnap.

“Too late for the fracas,” remarked Hilton, glancing at the two Foxhounds. Then he proudly petted Dander. "Didn’t need yer purp after all, ye see.” “Takes a heap of nerve for ten big

Dogs to face one Tittle Coyote,** remarked the father sarcaotieally. “"Wait till we run on to a Gray.” Next day we were out again, for I made up my mind to aee the hunt to a finish.

From a high point we caught sight of a moving speck of grey. A moving white speck stands for Antelope, a yellow speck for Fox, ?. grey speck for either Grey Wolf or Coyote, and which of them is determined by its tail. If the glass shows the tail down it is a Coyote; if up, it is the dreaded Grey Wolf. Dander was shown the game as before and led the procession—the everJengt honing procession — Greyhounds, Wolfhounds, Foxhounds, Danes, BullTerrier, horsemen. We got a brief glimpse of the pursuit; a Gray Wolf it surely was, loping away ahead of the Dogs. Somehow I got the impression that the first dogs were not running quite so fast now as when after the Coyote. But no one knew the finish of the hunt. The Dogs came back to us and we saw no more of that Wolf. Sarcastic remarks from the various Dog-owners and the father followed. “Pah—scairt—plumb scairt,” was the father’s disgusted comment of the pack. “They could catch up easy enough, but when he turned on them they lighted out for home—pah!” “Where’s that thar onsurpassable, fearless, scaired-o’-nort harrier ?” asked Hilton scornfully. “I dpn’t know,” said I. "I am inclined to think he never saw the Wolf, but if he ever does I’ll bet he sails in for death or glory." That night several Cows were killed elose to the ranch, and we were spurred on to another hunt. It opened much like the other. Late in the afternoon we sighted a Gray fellow with tail up, not half a mile off. Hilton called Dander up on the saddle. I acted on the idea and called Snap to mine. His legs were so short that he had to leap several times before he made it, scrambling up at last with my foot as a half-way station. I pointed and he gazed earnestly, for he always was a seridus little Dog; but I “sic-ed” for a minute before he saw the game, and then he started out after the Greyhounds, already gone, with energy that was full of promise.

The chase this time led us not to the rough brakes along the river, but toward the open upland country, for reasons that appeared later, and we were close together, as we rose to the upland and sighted the chase half a jnile off just as Dander earne up with the Wolf and snapped at his haunch. The Wolf turned to fight and we had a fine view. The Dogs came up by twos and threes, barking at him in a ring, till at last the little white one rushed up. He wasted no time barking, but rushed straight at the Wolf, and seemed to get him by the nose; then the ten big Dogs closed in, and in two minutes the Wolf was dead. We had ridden hard to be in at the finish, and though our view was distant we saw at least that Snap had lived up to the telegram as well as to my promises for him. Now it was my turn to crow, and I did not lose the chanee. “Snap had shown them how,” and at las the Mendoza pack had killed a Gray Wolf without help from the men. There were two things to mar the victory somewhat: first, it was a young

Wolf, a mero eub, hence Ma foolirt choice of country; second, Snap was wounded; the Wolf had given him a bad cut in Che shoulder. As wc rode home in proud procession I saw he limped a little. “Here,” I cried, "come up, Snip.” He tried once or twice to jump to the saddle, but could not. “Here, Hilton, lift him up to me.” “Thanks, I’ll let you handle your own rattlesnakes,” was the reply, for all knew now that it was not safe to meddle with his person. “Here, Snap, take hold,” 1 said, and help my quirt to him. He seized it in his teeth, and by that I lifted him to the front of my saddle, and there carried him home. We cared for him as though he had been a baby. He had shown those Cattlemen how to fill the weak place in the pack. The Foxhound may be good, and the Greyhound swift, and the Russians and Danes fighters, but they are no use at all without the crowning moral force of grit that none can supply so well a Bull-Terrier. On that day the Cattlemen learned how to manage the Wolf question, and now they have little trouble, as yon will find if ever you are at Mendoza—for every successful Wolf pack there has with it a Bull-Terrier, preferably of the Snap-Mendoza breed. UIAPTER IV. Next day was Christmas Day, the anniversary of Snap’s advent. The weather was clear, bright, not too cold, and tlFere was no snow on the ground. The men usually celebrated the day with a hunt of some sort, and now, of course, Wolves were the one object. To the disappointment of all, Snap was in bad shape with his wound. He slept as usual at my feet, and bloody stains now marked the place. He was not in condition to fight, but we were bound to have a Wolf-hunt, so he was beguiled »o an outhouse and locked up, while we went off, and I, aghast, with a sense of impending disaster. I knew we should fail without my Dog, but I did not realise how bad a failure it was to be.

Afar among the buttes of Skull Creek we had roamed when a white ball appeared bounding through the sage-brush, and in a minute more Snap came, growling and stump-waggling, up to my Horse’s side. I could not send, him back; he would take no such orders, not even from me. His wound was looking bad, so I called him, held down the quirt, and so jumped him to my saddle. “There,’ I thought, “I’ll keep you safe till we get home.” Yes—l thought—but I reckoned not with Snap. The voice of Hilton, “Hu, Hu,” announced that he had sighted a Wolf. Dander, and Riley, his rival, both sprang to the point of observation, with the result that they collided and fell together sprawling in the sage. But Snap, gazing hard, had sighted the Wolf, not so very far off, and before I knew it he leaped from the saddle and bounded zigzag, high, low, in and under the sage, straight for the enemy, leading the whole pack for a few minutes. Not far, of course—the great Greyhounds sighted the moving speck, and the usual procession strung out on the plains. It promised to be a fine hunt, for the Wolf had less than half a mile start, and all the Dogs were fully interested. “They’ve turned up the Grizzly Gully,” shouted Garvin. “This way, and we can head them off.”

So we turned and rode herd around the north aide of Hulmer’s Butte, while the ehase seemed to go around the south.

We galloped to the top of a cedar ridge, and were about to ride through when Hilton shouted: “By George, here he is. We’re right on to him.” He leaped from his Horse, dropped the bridle and ran forward. I did the same. A great Gray Wolf eame lumbering across an open plain towards us. Hig head was low, his tail out level, and fifty yards behind him was Dander, sailing like a Hawk over the ground, going twice as fast as the Wolf. In a minute the Hound was alongside and snapped, but bounded by as the Wolf turned on him. They were just below us now, and not over fifty feet away. Gavin drew his revolver, but in a fateful moment Hiltou interfered. "No, no, let’s see it out.” In a few seconds the second Greyhound arrived, then the rest in order of swiftness. Each came up full of fight, determined to dash right in and tear the Wolf to pieces, but each in turn swerved aside and leaped and barked around at a safe distance. Then the Russians arrived —fine big Dogs they were. Their distant intention no doubt was to go straight at the old Wolf, but his fearless front, his sinewy frame and death-dealing jaws awed them long before they were near him, and they also joined the ring, while the grizzly giant in the middle faced this way and that, ready for any or all. Now the Danes arrived, huge-limbcd creatures, any one of them as heavy as the Wolf- I heard their heavy breathing tighten into a threatening sound as they came plunging, eager to tear the foe to pieces; but when they saw him there, grim, fearless, mighty of jaw, tireless of limb, ready to die, if need be —but sure of this, he would not die alone—well, those great Danes—all three of them —were stricken, as the rest had been, with a sudden bashfulness —yes! they would show him presently, not now, but as soon as they had got their breath, that they were not afraid of a Wolf —oh, no. I could read their courage in their voices. They knew perfectly well that the first Dog to go in was going to get hurt, but—never mind that—presently they would bark a little more to get up enthusiasm. And as the ten big Dogs bounded

around the silent grizzly monger there was a rustling in the sage at the far side of the plain; a small white rubber ball, it seemed, eame bounding, but grew into a little Bull-terrier, and Snap, slowest of the pack and last, came panting hard, so hard they seemed like gasps—and over the levsl open, straight to the changing ring around the Cattlekiller whom none dared face. Did Snap hesftate’ Not for an instant. Through the ring of the yelping pack, straight for the old despot of the range, right for his throat he sprang; and the Gray Wolf struck with his twenty simitars. But the little one. if foiled at all. sprang again, nnd then what came I hardly knew. There was a whirling mass of Dogs. I thought I saw the little white one clinched on the Grey Wolf’s nose. The pack was all around; we eould not help them now. But they did not need us; they had a leader of dauntless mettle, and when in a little while the final scene was done, there on the ground lay the Grey Wolf, a giant of his kind, and clinched on his nose was the little white Dog. We were standing around within 15ft ready to help, but had no chance till we were not needed. The Wolf was dead and I hallooed to Snap, but he did not move. I bent over hitn. “Snap—Snap, it’s all over: you’ve killed him.” But the Dog was very still and now I saw’ several deep wounds in his body’. I tried to lift him. "Eet go. old fellow, it’s all over-” He growled feebly, and at last let go of the Wolf. The rough Cattlemen were kneeling around him now; old Penroof's voice v s trembling as he muttered: ”1 wouldn’t had hurt him for 20 steers.” I lifted him in my arms, called to him nnd stroked his head. He snarled a little, a farewell snarl it proved, for he licked my hand as he did so—then never snarled again. That was a sad ride home for me. There was the skin of a monstrous Wolf; but no other hint of triumph. We buried the fearless one on a butt« back of the ranch house. Old Penroof, as he stood by, was heard to grumble his first good word for a Dog: “By glory, that was grit—clar grit—ye can’t raise Cattle without grit.”