food became scarce in the cabin. It had been some
time since Rathburn had gone to town for supplies. Then came the day
when a great joy came into Stub's life--his master spoke to him. It
was not the old fond greeting, to be sure. It was a command, and a
sharp one; but in Stub's opinion it was a vast improvement on the
snarling oaths or wordless glowerings which had been his portion for
the past weeks, and he responded to it with every sense and muscle
quiveringly alert.

And so it came about that Stub, in obedience to that sharp command,
frequently scampered off with his master to spend long days in the
foothills, or following the mountain streams. Sometimes it was a
partridge, sometimes it was a squirrel, or a rabbit--whatever it was
that fell a victim to Rathburn's gun, Stub learned very soon that it
must be brought at once to the master and laid at his feet; and so
proud was he to be thus of use and consequence that he was well content
if at the end of the day his master tossed him a discarded bone after
the spoils had been cooked and the man's own appetite satisfied.

It was on one of the days when work, not hunting, filled the time, that
Rathburn came home after a long day's labor to find Stub waiting for
him with a dead rabbit. After that it came to be a common thing for
the dog to trot off by himself in the morning; and the man fell more
and more in the way of letting him go alone, as it left his own time
the more free for the pursuit of that golden sprite who was ever
promising success just ahead.

As for Stub--Stub was happy. He spent the long days in the foothills
or on the mountain-side, and soon became expert in his hunting. He
would trail for hours without giving tongue, and would patiently lie
and wait for a glimpse of a venturesome woodchuck or squirrel. So
devoted was he, so well trained, and so keenly alive was he to his
responsibilities that, whether the day had been one of great or small
success, he was always to be found at night crouching before the cabin
door on guard of something limp and motionless--something that a dozen
hours before had been a throbbing, scurrying bit of life in the forest.
To be sure, that "something" did not always have a food value
commensurate with the labor and time Stub had spent to procure it; but
to Stub evidently the unforgivable sin was to return with nothing,
which fact may explain why Rathburn came home one night to find Stub on
guard beside a small dead