Now
Splinters was some sort of a mongrel fise, an insignificant-looking
little beast that had come originally from the city and presumably was
hopelessly civilized. Jasper, however, had recognized in him certain
latent talents and had trained him to follow wounded deer. He paid no
attention to any scent except that of deer blood. In an accidental
encounter with the hind foot of a horse, Splinters had lost the sight
of one eye and the use of one ear; but in spite of the lopsided
progression occasioned by this disability, he was infallible with
wounded bucks.
So Jasper came, and Splinters trotted along at his heels. At the spot
where the deer leaped off the trail, we let the dog smell a drop of
blood. After a deliberate, unexcited investigation, he began to wander
through the brush. Occasionally he stopped to stand on his hind legs
and nose the chaparral above him, then wandered on. Just about this
time I stepped on a rattlesnake, and, after a hasty change of location,
directed my efforts toward dispatching the snake. By the time I had
finished this worthy deed, Jasper and Splinters were lost to view; so I
sat down and waited.
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