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The Spell of the Rockies

Rob of the Rockies
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hurrying out of the flood-swept mountains in northern colorado, in may, 1905, i came upon a shaggy black and white dog, hopelessly fastened in an entanglement of flood-moored barbed-wire fence that had been caught in a clump of willows. he had been carried down with the flood and was coated with earth. masses of mud clung here and there to his matted hair, and his handsome tail was encased as though in a plaster cast. he was bruised, and the barbs had given him several cuts. one ear was slit, and a blood-clot from a cut on his head almost closed his left eye.

had i not chanced upon him, he probably would have perished from hunger and slow torture. though he must have spent twelve hours in this miserable barbed binding, he made no outcry. the barbs repeatedly penetrated his skin, as i untangled and uncoiled the wires from around his neck and between his legs. as he[pg 94] neither flinched nor howled, i did him the injustice to suppose that he was almost dead. he trusted me, and as i rolled him about, taking off that last thorny tangle, the slit ear, bloody muzzle, and muddy head could not hide from me an expression of gratitude in his intelligent face.

returning from a camping-trip, and narrowly escaping drowning, too, i was a dirty vagabond myself. when the last wire dropped from the prisoner, he enthusiastically began to share his earth coating with me. he leaped up and half clasped me in his fore legs, at the same time wiping most of the mud off his head on one side of my face. then he darted between my legs, racing about and occasionally leaping or flinging himself against me; each time he leaped, he twisted as he came up so that he struck me with his back, head, or side, and thus managed to transfer much of this fertile coat to me. he finally ended by giving several barks, and then racing to the near-by river for a drink and a bath. i, too, needed another cloudburst.

just what kinds of dogs may have made his[pg 95] mixed ancestry could not be told. occasionally i had a glimpse of a collie in him, but for all practical purposes he was a shepherd, and he frequently exhibited traits for which the shepherd is celebrated. i could never find out where he came from. it may be that the flood separated him from his master's team; he may have been washed away from one of the flooded ranches; or he may have been, as the stage-driver later told me, "a tramp dog that has been seen in north park, cheyenne, and greeley." home he may have left; master he may have lost; or tramp he may have been; but he insisted on going with me, and after a kindly though forceful protest, i gave in and told him he might follow.

the flood had swept all bridges away, and i was hurrying down the poudre, hoping to find a place to cross without being compelled to swim. he followed, and kept close to my heels as i wound in and out among flood débris and willow-clumps. but i did not find a place that appeared shallow.

as it was necessary to cross, i patted my[pg 96] companion good-by, thinking he would not care to go farther, and waded in. he squatted by the water's edge and set up a howl. i stopped and explained to him that this was very bad crossing for an injured dog, and that we would better separate; but he only howled the more. he wanted to go with me, but was afraid to try alone.

returning to the bank, i found a rope in the flood wreckage, tied this around his neck and waded in. he followed cheerfully, but swam with effort. when about half way across, and in the water up to my shoulders, i attached myself to a floating log lest the dog should weaken and need help. within sixty or seventy feet of the desired bank we struck a stretch of swift, deep water, in which i was compelled to let the animal go and swim for the shore. my companion was swept down by the current, and the rope caught on a snag, entangling my legs so that i had to cut it or drown. the current swept poor doggie against some stranded wreckage in midstream. on this he climbed, while i struggled on to the bank.[pg 97]

i called to him to come on, but he only howled. again i called, patted my knees, made friendly gesticulations, and did all i could think of to encourage him. finally, i told him that if he would only start i would come part way and be ready to help him if he got into trouble. but he would not start. not desiring the task of returning for him through the cold, strong current, and feeling in a hurry, i started on. he howled and then cried so piteously that i went back and towed him safely ashore.

that night some good people of the ranch house treated both of us kindly, and in the morning they wanted to keep my companion. i was willing that he should stay, for he would have a good place, and i was bound for denver, where i feared some accident would befall him. but he growled and ran away when the man advanced to tie him. i started on afoot and he joined me, insisting on following.

all the time he had been with me his only thought appeared to be to stay with me. game, dogs, horses, and people he saw and passed with expressionless face, except two or three times[pg 98] when he imagined i was in danger; then he was instantly alert for my defense. when the stage overtook us, and stopped to let me in, he leaped in also, and squatted by the driver with such an air of importance that i half expected to see him take the lines and drive.

i lost him in my rush to make the train at the station. he could, of course, have kept with me had he been without fear, or if he had really so desired. as the train pulled out, i saw him start down-street with an air of unconscious confidence that told of wide experience. he was a tramp dog.

the next time i saw him was several months later, in leadville, some two hundred miles from where he left me. where, in the mean time, he may have rambled, what towns he may have visited, or what good days or troubles he may have had, i have no means of knowing.

i came walking into leadville with snowshoes under my arm, from two weeks' snowshoeing and camping on the upper slopes of the rockies. the ends of broken tree limbs had torn numerous right-angled triangles in my clothes, my[pg 99] soft hat was unduly slouchy, and fourteen nights' intimate association with a camp-fire, along with only an infrequent, indifferent contact with water, had made me a sight to behold,—for dogs, anyway. on the outskirts, one snarly cur noticed me and barked; in a few minutes at least a dozen dogs were closely following and making me unwelcome to their haunts. they grew bold with time, numbers, and closer inspection of me. they crowded unpleasantly close. realizing that if one of them became courageous enough to make a snap at my legs, all might follow his example, i began to sidle out of the middle of the street, intending to leap a fence close by and take refuge in a house.

before i could realize it, they were snapping right and left at me, and howling as they collided with the tail of a snowshoe which i used as a bayonet. we were close to the fence, i trying to find time to turn and leap over; but i was too busy, and, without assistance, it is probable that i should have been badly bitten.

suddenly there was something like a football[pg 100] mix-up at my feet, then followed a yelping of curs, with tucked tails dashing right and left to avoid the ferocious tackles of a shaggy black and white dog. it was rob, who was delighted to see me, and whom i assured that he was most welcome.

he had been seen about leadville for two or three months, and several persons had bits of information concerning him. all agreed that he had held aloof from other dogs, and that he quietly ignored the friendly greetings of all who made advances. he was not quarrelsome, but had nearly killed a bulldog that had attacked a boy. on one occasion, a braying burro so irritated him that he made a savage attack on the long-eared beast, and sent him pell-mell down the street, braying in a most excited manner.

the drivers of ore wagons reported that he occasionally followed them to and from the mines up the mountainside. at one livery-stable he was a frequent caller, and usually came in to have a drink; but no one knew where he ate or slept. one day a little mittened girl had left her sled, to play with him. he had[pg 101] responded in a most friendly manner, and had raced, jumped, circled, and barked; at last he had carried her slowly, proudly on his back.

i grew greatly interested in his biography, and wondered what could have shaped his life so strangely. in what kind of a home was his pretty puppyhood spent? why was he so indifferent to dogs and people, and had he left or lost a master?

early next spring, after vainly trying to follow the trail of explorer pike, i struck out on a road that led me across the wet mountain valley up into sangre de cristo mountains. when well up into the mountains, i saw a large dog walking slowly toward me, and at once recognized him as rob. although clean and well-fed, he held his head low and walked as though discouraged. the instant he scented me, however, he leaped forward and greeted me with many a wag, bark, and leap. he was one hundred miles from leadville, and fully three hundred miles from the flood scene on the poudre. he faced about and followed me up into the alpine heights, far beyond trail. we saw a number of deer and[pg 102] many mountain sheep; these he barely noticed, but a bear that we came upon he was most eager to fight.

the second night in the mountains, near horne's peak, we had an exciting time with a mountain lion. coyotes howled during the evening, much to the dog's annoyance. it was a cold night, and, being without bedding, i had moved the fire and lain down upon the warm earth. the fire was at my feet, a crag rose above my head, and rob was curled up against my back. a shrill, uncanny cry of the lion roused me after less than an hour's sleep. the dog was frightened and cuddled up close to my face. the lion was on a low terrace in the crag, not many yards distant. having been much in the wilds alone and never having been attacked by lions, i had no fear of them; but none had ever been so audacious as this one. i began to think that perhaps it might be true that a lion would leap upon a dog boldly at night, even though the dog lay at the feet of his master. i kept close watch, threw stones at suspicious shadows on the cliff terraces, and maintained a blazing fire.[pg 103]

long before sunrise we started down the mountain. both rob and i were hungry, and although we startled birds and rabbits, rob paid not the least attention to them. at noon, on madano pass, i lay down for a sleep and used rob for a pillow. this he evidently enjoyed, for he lay still with head stretched out and one eye open.

at mid-afternoon we met a sheep-herder who was carrying a club. i had seen this man elsewhere, and, on recognizing me as he came up, he waved his club by the way of expressing gladness. rob misinterpreted this demonstration, and dragged me almost to the frightened herder before i could make him understand that this ragged, unwashed, club-carrying fellow had no ill wishes for me.

i had in mind to climb sierra blanca the following day, and hoped to spend the night in a ranch house on the northern slope of this great peak. toward sundown rob and i climbed through a pole fence and entered the ranch house-yard. round a corner of the house came a boy racing on a willow switch pony. on seeing[pg 104] us, he stopped, relaxed his hold on the willow and started for rob. how happily he ran, holding out both eager hands! the dog sprang playfully backward, and began to dodge and bark as the boy laughingly and repeatedly fell while trying to catch him. just as i entered the house, rob was trying to climb to the top of the fence after his new playmate.

that night rob was agreeable with every one in the house, and even had a romp with the cat. these people wanted to keep him, and offered money and their best saddle-horse. i knew that with them he would have kind treatment to the day of his death. i wanted him, too, but i knew the weeks of mountain-exploring just before me would be too hard for him. "rob is a free dog," i said, "and is, of his own choice, simply traveling with me as a companion. i cannot sell or give him away. i like him, but, if he wants to stay, it will be a pleasure to me to leave him."

the next morning every one was wondering whether rob would go or stay. the dog had made up his mind. he watched me prepare to leave with keenest interest, but it was evident[pg 105] that he had planned to stay, and his boy friend was very happy. as i passed through the yard, these two were playing together; at the gate i called good-by, at which rob paused, gave a few happy barks, and then raced away, to try to follow his mountain boy to the top of the old pole fence.

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