The weekly miner. [volume] (Butte, Mont.) 1878-1881, 1881-08-16
A Gold Day for Dogs.

exchanges off onto the floor, and then sat
down.
"Say," the old man said, chewing his NOR
sci of navy plug with the rapid 'intonation of
man who was in earnest; "say, you know
that spotted coach-dog of mine that bit his
leg with a rattlesnake nigh onto three weeks
ago 2'
Yes, the editor said, he remembered it.
Dog dead.
Dead" said the old man, "no; live'as you
are, and all right, only he's tryin' to coil him
self up all the lime, and has eleven rattles
growe1 out on the end of his tail. Has, for
gospel fact. Nights, when he runs round the
house, sounds like drum corps goin' by. 1
declare to goodness wished I'd brung him
in with me-"
Yes, the editor wished he had.
"Nero, the dogs nanre is," the old man
said, gazing earnestly at the editors face
"Nero is Tx years old this spring. Raised
him myself; Flint river deg; you'v seen him
hundreds of times, under my wagon"
Yes, the editor thought he had seen him
before he grew his rattles.
''Yes," the old man said, with a confirma-
tory sigh. Then he added, "You know that
shaggy, rough-haired Scotch terrier of Ben
Martins? WE'LL sir, Ben he went to Phila-
delphy and got "a couple dozen O. silkworms
an fed 'em to the dog, an'-ye amt seen the
terrier since lest Saturday, have YEP"
No, the editor hadn't seen the dog or Mar
tin himself since April.
"Well, sir, hope may die some time, if
that dogs hair amt come out the softest, fin
est silk fringe We ever saw in your life! Silk
fringe, with braid two inches deep along his
back, an a ball of chenille hangin' from the
end of each year. Ben's going to buy up Il
couple O. hundred cheap long haired dogs
feed 'em silkworms and shear 'em every,
spring"
The editor thought there would be money
in it.
"Better'n gold mine,' the old man said;
san do you know, while he was fcedin' of
him. Ben forgot to take off the dogs col
lar; big leather collar
Sand what happened to the collar?" the
editor asked, a little wearily.
"Velvct," said the old man, enthusiastical
ly, "Lyons velvet, with a cell,llod buckle
You remember the dog, don't ye? Used TO
come to town with Ben regular, three or four
times month. l declare, | wisht I'd a asst
Ben to let me bring HIM in to show you this
morning. Ben was too busy to come in him
self. 'Snarley,' Ben calls him. Flint river
dog; bred and raised right here on Ben's
farm"
The editor thought he would like to see
bring him in. And he plunged his pen into
the ink two or three times, as though he
would write something.
"Yes," the old man sighed again. And
once more Frightening up he resumed. 81
! say, you remember that long-legged, ornary
looking meat hound of Dick Rogers, don't
you, that killed Lem Crandalls sheep last
February?' -
The editor expressed a faint, very faint rec
objection of Dick Rogers dog, and Mr.. This
.lepod went on
"Well, the boys had little target shoot
over to Mary Strnger's place on the Fourth
OF July, and while they was shooting if that
blamed, hungry starvelin' of dog didn't get
at the box and eat up more than twenty cart
ridges. On my life, if he didn't! Make him
sick! Not hair of him. he just frsked
around and seemed to feel better for it. Well
sir, about eleven o'clock that night the dog
went off l.
"No," exclaimed the editor, with more in-
terest than he had yet displayed. by
George! Did he make a big noise : Did he,
though. Hurt anybody"
NO." the old man said, rising to GO
''reckon not; he just went off with Bill Hook.
enbur, that comes to see Rogers big red.
haired girl. He come back next morning
early"
The editor returned to the business on the
Speakers table, with the heavy tread of the
honest old asriculturist faded away down
the distant stairs, amid the heartless mockins
laughter Of the yourg men on the stall
Burlington Hapkeyc.