4 Flapjack. HE turned one clean half-somersault from nowhere, and landed plunk on his back at my feet. I said, "Flapjacks!" That's how he got his name. He was only an Indian's cur, the forlornest little waif of a lost puppy, with the most beautiful dogs' eyes I have ever seen. He scrambled to his feet and used his eyes-that settled it for us. Without further introduction, we offered him the remains of our dinner. He accepted it with three gulps and then stood wagging his poor little tail, asking for more. We were camping and trailing out in the Wind River Mountains-Brandt and I-back of the Shoshone Indian Reservation, and we had halted for dinner in a small cañon in the shade of the rock wall from whose summit Flapjack had tried his little acrobatic stunt. Whether he came from an Indian encampment near by, which we had not seen, or was just plain lost and fending for himself alone in the wilderness, we did not know. He told us about fending for one's self while he ate his dinner, an' that it was "an awful" hard life and sometimes "very discouraging." After dinner he told us that our scraps were the very best food he had ever eaten; that our outfit, our horses and mule, the finest he had ever seen; that we ourselves were gods, wise and very great; that he loved the ground we trod on, and only asked to stay with us forever. So he stayed. Jinny, the mule, returned his compliments unopened, and told him what she thought of him by showing the under side of her off hind hoof and putting back her ears. But then, Jinny By Carter Hamilton. was the only aristocratic person in camp, in her own opinion, and you may take that for what it is worth. She did n't prejudice us against Flapjack. Still, Brandt and I happened not to share Jinny's opinion of herself. Brandt was in the habit of remarking on seventeen separate and several occasions each day that "even fer a mule, Jinny is the low-downdest one I ever set eyes on." At the sight of her hoof, Flapjack made a ludicrous little duck with his head and came back to us, volubly explaining that, "Of course, the mule being yours, don't you know? she simply must be the very finest, sweetesttempered animal in the world, don't you know? and altogether above reproach, don't you know?" That won us completely. And he never once reproached her for anything she did-even when she kicked him into the river. He treated her with distant courtesy always, without so much as a yap in her direction. And it was n't because he was afraid of mules, either-Brandt and I will deny that imputation against his valor to our dying day. Let a strange mule or horse get in among ours, and Flapjack was a very lion of ferocity until he had yapped him out of sight. "Think we 'd better look for their camp?" I asked, putting the dishes into Jinny's pack. "What, the purp's Injuns? Not much!" answered Brandt. "If they have n't seen us, let 'em alone. An' if they have-why, we 've got to wait proper introductions. I move we hike." So we hiked, and Flapjack hiked with us. called: a trail which probably no white man but ourselves had ever set foot upon. We were bound for a little lake that we knew, crammed with the most innocent fish on earth. No; I am not going to tell you where. There are some things you must find out for yourself, if you are game for it, just as we did; otherwise, you don't deserve to know. After some ten days we arrived, without either adventure or misadventure, at our happy fishing-ground, and made camp on a little precipice at whose foot a deep, dark pool lured monster and luscious rarities. In spite of his hard journey, little Flapjack had improved amazingly as to health, not as to manners: for from the first day we knew him, he had better manners than any other dog I ever met. If you flung him a crust, he so appreciated it—it was the very nicest crust, the daintiest morsel, one could have; just as everything we did was simply perfect in his eyes. And he was n't servile about it, either. He simply approved of everything we did, and told us so in an eloquent, dumb way of his own. We made camp for a two weeks' stay; felled a tree for backlog, and fixed things generally to be comfortable, all under his supervising eye. And when it was done, and the friendship fire lighted, he lay down before it as one of us and said, "This is home." So we fished and were happy; and we fished some more and were happier; and we fished more and more and were happier and happier every day. Do you understand that feeling? If you have known Wyoming camp-fires, you do. Sometimes we tramped to distant shores of the lake, "so 's not to git our own fish too eddicated," Brandt explained, though generally we fished at our camp from a fallen forest monarch lying out over our deep hole. We used much craft and almost any kind of bait, and drew up monsters I do not dare to describe in cold print. Brandt used to say, "Them fish is so blame' innercent, y' could ketch um with a shoe-button on a button-hook, if y' had it handy" - which I did n't. And thus we lived one blessed week of glorious days between heavenly sleeps-that is, until the day of the Great Catch. he looked at the Great Catch laid in a row in front of our tent. "Supper!" I yelled. "I don't mean that. I mean somethin'," replied Brandt, meditatively. "Jevver notice that whenever y' strike the Great Catch somethin' comes right bang top of it to take y' down? Every time an' every time it's so. That 's what I mean. I bet it's Injuns—seem to sense it that way-Injuns." 'I seem to sense it that we 've got to clean those fish before it gets dark, and fry them, and eat them," I said. Do we pack the water up or the fish down?" utes. Brandt was in the lead, Flapjack at my heel, for he superintended all the camp operations, meal-time being his great opportunity. There were two high rock-steps at the end of our path that brought us up to our level. Flapjack ran around through the brush by a trail of his own to meet us at the top. Brandt stepped over; I followed. "Jumpin' giraffes!" Brandt exclaimed. At that instant I saw our last fish disappear into a great red mouth in one end of a brushpile, and the mouth said, " Woof!" At the word Brandt's canvas bucket hurtled through the air and landed quush! on a big, "silver-tip" grizzly's nose. The grizzly said, loud. Woofsh-spshpts!" very The bucket was Flapjack's cue to go on with his part, and he did. He went after the bucket with a wild " Yee-ap!" and a flying leap, and landed somewhere in the neighborhood of the spot just vacated by the bucket. The grizzly emitted something between a shriek and a groan, bounded up like a rubberball, cleared the top level at one jump, and disappeared into the brush squealing, with Flap"Somethin' comin'," said Brandt one day, as jack yee-ap-yapping at his heels! "THE GRIZZLY DISAPPEARED INTO THE BRUSH SQUEALING, WITH FLAPJACK YEE-AP-YAPPING AT HIS HEELS!" in general and big ones in particular. The echoes ceased and the sounds grew fainter, and fainter and fainter-and were swallowed up by the great silences. "Well, I never!" groaned Brandt at last, looking ruefully at the revolver in his hand. "Such a chance spoilt by a purp--a plain, stump-tail Injun purp!" "Plucky, though, was n't it?" "Plucky! If y' call it plucky to run after a thing when y' don't know what it is an' jest throw yerself at its head till y' find out! But he won out, all the same!" added Brandt. "Yes, siree, he won out-on sheer pluck! What 'd I tell y'? 'T was n't Injuns, but it sure was something-the whole catch o' fish is gone-we 'll have pork fer supper." "I'm thinking of Flapjack," I said. "'Fraid he's done for by this, poor little fellow." "Oh, he'll be back to supper," replied Brandt, confidently; and an hour later, tongue lolling, tail erect, Flapjack sauntered into camp. our having such a speedy dog in camp with us: "Silver Tip 'll be back to-morrow," I remarked. "No-py," replied Brandt. "Don't you guess it. This time to-morrow mornin' he'll strike Yallastone Park, an' this time to-morrow night he 'll be over in Montana visitin' his aunt in the country. If y' want him you'll have to take an express-train-an' y' won't ketch him then. He'll hike over three States 'fore he stops. I know bears-they ain't coyotes. Flappie, what d' ye think about it ?" Flapjack replied that he agreed with Brandt absolutely, that he, too, knew bears "tremenjous well," and he did a great deal of tail-wagging to prove it. So I took their word for it-two against one -and smoked in silence, pondering the great event. For it was an event to me at that time-my first sight of Silver Tip in his native wilderness. Those were the early days of Wyoming camp-fires for me, and I had then seen very little of the larger game. his. So he stayed out and I went back to camp, personally conducted by Flapjack, a string of lesser whales in my hand. And I almost ran into Silver Tip before I saw him-for Silver Tip was in the tent! He had already munched the camera and a few other trifles of like sort, and was at the moment supping on my last film (all the views of the trip!), which hung out of his mouth and curled about like a live ribbon while he clawed it. Silver Tip said, "Wo-o-of!" and struck out with his paw-at the film, probably, though I thought he was striking at me. Anyhow, he struck out-I saw that. I struck out with the fish in my hand, and hit him swat on the side of the head! That started it-he knew what I was. I dropped the fish I was carrying and jumped, pulling my six-shooter. With one bound he was out of the tent after me. The next instant I found myself playing hide-and-seek with him around a big tree, to the tune of " Woof-woof! We had gone to our second pool three miles and of Yap-yap-yap-yee-ap!" from Flapjack. But even though two against one-they were wrong, and in this wise it all happened five days later. "Shoot! Shoot!" I did n't. Something kept saying in my ear, chance. I fired and struck him amidships. Bruin turned and snapped viciously at his wound. On that, Flapjack nipped his ear. fired a second time, but only grazed him. I had a dim sort of realization that I could n't shoot over my head or behind my back or I "AS I TURNED TO SHOOT HE ROSE TO HIS FEET ALMOST OVER ME." under my feet, and take flying leaps at the same time about a tree. So I bolted for the next tree, meaning to turn there and shoot. As I did so, Flapjack dashed from behind Bruin and nipped him in the flank. That distraction gave me one extra second and my He rushed me then so that I bolted to the next tree, then across the open space to the third. I gained time by this; I knew what I was going to do, and Bruin did n't. I say time-it was probably three seconds. As he came at me, Flapjack dashed back and forth |