Late
in the afternoon West came back and reported that he had been unable
to find Faye, and then with much hesitation and choking he told me
that he had lost Hal!
He said that as they had gone up a little hill, they had surprised a
small band of antelope that were grazing rather near on the other
side, and that the hound started after them like a streak, pulling one
down before they had crossed the lowland, and then, not being
satisfied, he had raced on again after the band that had disappeared
over a hill farther on. That was the last he saw of him. West said
that he wanted to bring the dead antelope to the post, but could not,
as both horses objected to it.
My heart was almost broken over the loss of my dog, and I started for
my own room to indulge in a good cry when, as I passed the front door
that was open, I happened to look out, and there, squatted down on the
walk to the gate was Hal! I ran out to pet him, but drew back in
horror when I saw the condition he was in. His long nose and all of
his white chest were covered with a thick coating of coarse antelope
hair plastered in with dried blood. The dog seemed too tired to move,
and sat there with a listless, far-away look that made me wish he
could tell all about his hunt, and if he had lost the second poor
little antelope. West almost danced from joy when he saw him, and lost
no time in giving him a bath and putting him in his warm bed.
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