The record-union., 1893-10-26
NEVER FORGOT THE ADVENTURE

ter'S Escape from Apaches.
The pets on Harry Delgars ranch, near
Joseph, \. NJ, have been few in number
! but Of rare quality. There is only one
now, an aged little black dog, so fat he
! does not care to romp with the children
| except during cool evenings, and so old
that his hair, that was once black, is now
! turning gray. This dog is remarkable in
only one respect. When he wants a
! drink, says correspondent of the New
! York Sitn, or when water or milk is
placed for him to drink, he goes to it
with pace so slow that it takes him
from fifteen to thirty minutes to travel
! across common country kitchen. When
he sees the water he turns toward it, and
then with a delibration that is astonish-
ing to i stranger and very pitiful to one
who knows the story, lifts one foot care
fully in the air, and after q look around
as slowly and carefully puts it down .
slight distance in advance. Then another
foot is put forward in like manner, the
whole bearing OF the little fellow through
out his journey being that of hunted
beast in abject terror of its life.
Something like ten years ago, when
Victoria and his savage band were raid
ing the white settlers in southern New
y
the property Of George Doyle, prospect
or who was developing prospect near
the mining camp OF CoOney. While
Doyle labOred on his claim, that was up
III gulch some little distance from the
camp, Victoria surrounded the camp
stretching ia line Of pickets between
Doyle's claim and the settlement. Victo-
ria did not know that Doyle was up the
gulch and that was lucky circumstance
oil hnr n Of
Victoria's presence for some time, but
along toward night he learned that trouble
had come by hearing the shots fired in
the fighting. When Doyle learned the
true state OF affairs his food was gone and
his water canteen was empty. In all di-
rectiOns save one a desert land stretched
away for many miles, and 1t was desert
with which Doyle was unfamiliar. The
one direction in which food and water
could be found was along the short trail
that led down into the small but we'll
watered valley where Cooney lay, but
where, too, Victoria and host of savages
had surrounded the whites.
Crouching in his prospect hole with his
dog beside him, Doyle considered the
matter until darkness came, and thon de-
termined 10 try to work his way through
the Indian pickets into Cooney, where
his friends were. Fortune favored him.
and when daylight came he found himself
| in thick clump of willows a few rods
from the creek and fairly safe from OBJ
servation. He would, indeed, have felt
secure but for the dog. 1t was a lively,
restless beast, and Doyle was in constant
terror lest it's movements or an uneX-
pected yelp betray him. He was at the
point Of cutting its throat on several occa-
sions during The day, but refrained from
a feeling that he should show the beast
the mercy he could not obtain should he
fall into the hands OF the saVageS. Mean
time the man as well as the dog had suf-
fered terribly from thirst. Tor it is an arid
as well rs d hot region, but Doyle scarce
ly dared move even his hands while day
light lasted. And then, Just as evening
was coming on, two big Apache boys
chased a deer SO close 10 that clump of
willows that Doyle could see them be-
tween him and the stream, while their
wells seemed to ring in the air long after
NGhey were gone and all such sounds had
ceased. The scare Doyle got by their adj
vent was SO great thai IN spite of his tor
ment he lay still all that night with his
dog beside him.
Just how he got through the next day
with its heat and thirst Doyle does not
know. Nor can he explain how it hap
pened that the dog remained quietly by
his side. He guesses, however, that he
was deiiriOus most of the day, and that
the dog stayed with him because it was
its nature to stay with friend in trouble.
But when night came and its GOODNESS
had somewhat revived him, Doyle could
endure the thirst no longer. 1t was bet
ter 10 get one drink, he thought, and then
| risk torture at the hands OF the Apaches,
than TO die OF the torture he then suffered.
! ThereupOn, when the stars showed that
| midnight had passed, Doyle and the dog
| started for the stream whose ripping had
| for more than two days sounded in their
ears as the music of heaven might sound
| To souls in perditlon.
! With the utmost deliberatiou and care
Doyle, on his hands and knees, raised a
! hand, looked cautiously around and
eventually put it down a little way in adj
vance. Then his other hand was put for
ward, after which one knee was slowly
| brought up. In his mouth he carried his
knife to stab the dog to death did it make
an incautious movement, but the faithful
animal, keeping always at his side, ad-
vanced paw only as Doyle moved for
ward a limb. looking around the while
with the same anxiety that was mani
tested in his master.
Doyle says that through caution he took
more than an hour to cover two or three
rods, bur Of last he dipped his face in the
stream and found relief. With his thirst
satisfied Doyle regained his nerve and by
bold movements, just before day ybreak,
succeeded in reaching his friends. Vic
toria was eventually driven away and
Cooney prospered, as did Doyle. The
adventure in the mind of the man became
simply tale of frontier life. to be related
when such tales were telling. But the
dog never forgot the caution he exercised
| that night, and, incredible as it may seem.
he never even crosses three feet Of Del