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Updated: May 4, 2025
There were four of us squatters myself and my wife, the King and Queen of Silverado; Lloyd, the Crown Prince; and Chuchu, the Grand Duke. Chuchu, a setter crossed with spaniel, was the most unsuited for a rough life. He had been nurtured tenderly in the society of ladies; his heart was large and soft; he regarded the sofa-cushion as a bed-rock necessary of existence.
It was the mother 'coon's mate, who had heard the noise of combat where he was foraging by himself, far down the brook. At sight of this most timely reinforcement, the beleaguered raccoon made a sortie. Recognizing the weak point in the assailing forces, she darted straight upon the hesitating setter, and snapped at his leg.
The only colorable imitation is to be found in the eyes of my setter pup when he crouches at my feet and beseeches kindness after a punishment. In bearing, as I have intimated, Clem was impressive. He was low-toned, easy of manner, with a flawless aplomb.
Still the big setter, his silver-studded collar tinkling slightly like tiny shining castanets, galloped after that disreputable car as if he belonged to it and had been left carelessly behind. It never entered his head to turn back. Life was a simple thing to him. There were no pros and cons in his philosophy.
Another case: A friend of mine in Devizes had a litter of puppies unsought for, by a setter from a favorite pointer bitch, and after this she never bred any true pointers, no matter what the paternity was.
"You don't, eh?" cried Hollanden scornfully. "Well, let me tell you, young woman, there is a great deal of truth in it. Now, there's Hawker as good a fellow as ever lived, too, in a way, and yet he's an artist. Why, look how he treats look how he treats that poor setter dog!" "Why, he's as kind to him as he can be," she declared. "And I tell you he is not!" cried Hollanden. "He is, Hollie.
As though by a preconcerted signal a chair crashed over in the hall and the wolf hound and the setter and the coach dog came hurtling back in a furiously cordial onslaught. With wags and growls and yelps of joy all four dogs met in Flame's lap. "They seem to like me, don't they?" triumphed Flame.
But his next achievement was hardly so creditable. They were skirting the edge of a birch-wood that clothed the side of a steep precipice overlooking the Aivron, where there were some patches of bracken among the heather, when the setter in front of him a young dog began to draw rather falteringly on to something. "Ware rabbit, Hector!" the keeper said, in an undertone.
The first hut of the village sprang out of the fog before us like some dark monster ... then the second, our hut, emerged and my setter dog began barking, probably scenting me. I knocked at the window. "Semyon!" I shouted to Tyeglev's servant, "hey, Semyon! Make haste and open the gate for us." The gate creaked and opened; Semyon crossed the threshold.
As Puss was busily feeding in the dewy clover, she heard the quick, continuous gallop of a dog. This time, however, she had not to deal with Juno, the setter, but with a trained lurcher, borrowed for the occasion from a keeper who had captured the animal during a poaching affray. The leveret, peeping over the grass-tops, saw the dog coming rapidly on. He was over and past her in an instant.
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