But
the recollection of the unhappy year at Baton Rouge with the hospital
steward was still fresh in Hal's memory, and the fear of another
separation from his friends drove him on and on, faster and faster,
and kept him far ahead of the horses. When at last Faye found him, he
was sitting by the smoking ashes of our camp stove, his long nose
pointed straight up, giving the most blood-curdling howls of misery
and woe possible for a greyhound to give, and this is saying much. The
poor dog was wild with delight when he saw Faye, and of course there
was no trouble in bringing him back; he was only too glad to have his
old friend to follow. He must have missed Faye from the company in the
morning, and then failing to find me in the shut-up wagon, had gone
back to camp for us. This is all easily understood, but how did that
hound find the exact spot where our tent had been, even the very ashes
of our stove, on that large camp ground when he has no sense of smell?
I wondered all the day why I did not see Faye and when the stop for
luncheon passed and he had not come I began to worry, as much as I
could think of anything beyond my own suffering. Late in the afternoon
we reached the camp for the night, and still Faye had not come and no
one could tell me anything about him. And I was very, very ill! Doctor
Gordon was most kind and attentive, but neither he nor other friends
could relieve the pain in my heart, for I felt so positive that
something was wrong.
Pages:
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187