The Duck-footed Hound

by Jim Kjelgaard

  SUE

  After Mun and Harky entered the house, Precious Sue crawled into hernest on the porch. The nest was an upended wooden packing case with adoor cut in front and a strip of horse blanket hanging over the door tokeep the wind out. The nest was carpeted with other strips of discardedhorse blanket.

  On cold nights, Sue shoved the dangling strip over the door aside withher nose, went all the way in, let the horse blanket drop, and caredlittle how the wind blew. Tonight, after due observance of the caninetradition that calls for turning around three times before lying down,she stuck her nose under the blanket, lifted it, and went to sleep withher body inside but her head out. Her blissful sigh just before shedozed off was her way of offering thanks for such a comfortable home.

  It was not for Sue to understand that in more ways than one the dog'slife might well be the envy of many a human. She had never wondered whyshe'd been born or if life was worth living; she'd been born to huntcoons, and every coon hunter, whether biped or quadruped, found lifeeminently worth living.

  Though she often dreamed of her yesterdays, they were always pleasantdreams, and she never fretted about her tomorrows.

  Five seconds after she went to sleep, Sue was reliving one of heryesterdays.

  She was hot after a coon, a big old boar that was having a merry timeraiding Mun Mundee's shocked corn until Sue rudely interrupted. The coonwas a wanderer from far across the hills, and last night, with threehounds on his trail, he had wandered unusually fast. When he finallycame to Mun's corn, he was hungry enough to throw caution to the winds.And he knew nothing about Precious Sue.

  He did know how to react when she burst upon him suddenly. Running asthough he had nothing on his mind except the distance he might putbetween Sue and himself, the coon shifted abruptly from full flight tofull stop. It was a new maneuver to Sue. She jumped clear over the coonand rolled three times before she was able to recover.

  By the time she was ready to resume battle, the coon was making fasttracks toward a little pond near the cornfield. With a six-foot lead onSue, he jumped into the pond. When Sue promptly jumped in behind him,the coon executed a time-hallowed maneuver, sacred to all experiencedcoons that are able to entice dogs into the water. He swam to and sat onSue's head.

  Amateur hounds, and some that were not amateurs, nearly always drownedwhen the battle took this turn, but to Sue it was kindergarten stuff.Rather than struggle to surface for a breath of air, she yielded and letherself sink. The coon, no doubt congratulating himself on an absurdlyeasy victory, let go. Sue came up beneath him, nudged him with her noseto lift him clear of the water, clamped her jaws on his neck, andmarked another star on her private scoreboard.

  Of such heady stuff were her dreams made, and dreams sustained herthroughout the long winter, spring, and summer, when as a rule she didnot hunt. She could have hunted. There were bears, foxes, bobcats, and avariety of other game animals in the Creeping Hills. All were beneaththe notice of a born coon hound who knew as much about coons as anymortal creature can and who didn't want to know anything else.

  The squawking chicken brought her instantly awake. The wind was blowingfrom the house toward Willow Brook, so that she could get no scent. Butshe pin-pointed the sound, and she'd heard too many chickens squawk inthe night not to know exactly what they meant. Seconds later she was onOld Joe's trail.

  She knew the scent, for she had been actively hunting for the past fiveyears and had run Old Joe an average of six times a year. But she sawhim in a different light from the glow in which he was bathed by Mun andHarky Mundee. To them he was part coon and part legend. To Sue, thoughhe was the biggest, craftiest, and most dangerous she had ever trailed,he was all coon and it was a point of honor to run him up a tree.

  When she came to Willow Brook, she saw the flood surging over the iceand recognized it for the hazard it was. But except when they climbedtrees or went to earth in dens too small for her to enter, Sue had neverhesitated to follow where any coon led. She jumped in behind Old Joe,and fate, in the form of the south wind, decided to play a prank.

  Ice over which Old Joe had passed safely a couple of seconds beforecracked beneath Sue. The snarling current broke the one big piece intofour smaller cakes and one of them, rising on end, fell to scrape theside of Sue's head. Had it landed squarely it would have killed her.Glancing, it left her dazed, but not so dazed that she was bereft of allwit.

  Sue had swum too many creeks and ponds, and fought too many coons in thewater, not to know exactly how to handle herself there. Impulse bade hersurrender to the not at all unpleasant half dream in which she foundherself. Instinct made her fight on.

  Swept against unbroken ice, she hooked both front paws over it. Then shescraped with her hind paws and, exerting an effort born of desperation,fought her way back to the overflow surging on top of the ice. Oncethere, still dazed and exhausted by the battle to save herself, shecould do nothing except keep her head above flood water that carried hermore than two miles downstream and finally cast her up on the bank.

  For an hour and a half, too weak even to stand, Sue lay where the waterhad left her. Then, warned by half-heard but fully sensed rumblings andgrindings, she alternately walked and crawled a hundred yards fartherback into the forest and collapsed at the base of a giant pine. Withmorning she felt better.

  Still shaky, but able to walk, she stood and remembered. Last night OldJoe had come raiding. She had followed him to Willow Brook and lost thetrail there, thus leaving unfinished business that by everything a coonhound knew must be finished. Sue returned to Willow Brook and satperplexedly down with her tail curled about her rear legs.

  During the night, while she slept, the ice had gone out as she'd beenwarned by its first rumblings. She had heard nothing else, but she sawice cakes that weighed from a few pounds to a few tons thrown far up oneither bank. The moving ice had jammed a half mile downstream, and ineffect had created a temporary but massive dam. Harky Mundee could tossa stone across Willow Brook's widest pool in summer, but a beaver wouldthink twice before trying to swim it now.

  With some idea that she had been carried downstream, Sue put her nose tothe ground and sniffed hopefully for five hundred yards upstream. It wasno use. Everything that normally had business along Willow Brook hadfled from the breaking ice. Sue had no idea as to how she would find OldJoe's trail or even what she should do next.

  She whined lonesomely. Old Joe had eluded her again, which was nospecial disgrace because there'd always be a next time. Since she couldnot hunt, it would be ideal if she could return to the Mundee farm, butshe was afraid to try swimming the flood.

  Nosing about, Sue found a two-pound brown trout that had been caught andcrushed in the grinding ice and cast up on the bank. She ate the fish,and with food her strength returned. With strength came a return ofhound philosophy.

  Since there was little point in fighting the unbeatable, and becauseflooded Willow Brook held no charms, Sue wandered back into the forest.Ordinarily she would have stayed there, eating whatever she could findand returning to the Mundee farm after the flood subsided. But againfate, or nature, or whatever it may be that plays with the lives ofhuman beings and coon hounds, saw fit to intervene.

  Sue had been born to hunt coons and she was dedicated to her birthright,but the All-Wise Being who put the moon in the sky did so in theinterests of all romance. Sue yearned to meet a handsome boy friend.

  To conceive a notion was to execute it, and Sue began her search. Shehad often hunted this area. For miles in any direction, on the far sideof Willow Brook, was wilderness. She did not know of any farmer, or evenany trapper, who might have a dog. But she had a sublime faith that ifonly she kept going, she would find her heart's desire.

  Three days later, after passing up three farms that unfortunately werestaffed with lady dogs, Sue approached a fourth. It was little betterthan a wilderness clearing, with a tiny barn, a couple of sheds, and aone-room house. But Sue was not interested in the elite side of humanliving, and the great black and tan hound that c
ame roaring toward herwas handsome enough to make any girl's heart miss a beat.

  Sue waited coyly, for though to all outward appearances the huge houndwas intent only on tearing her to pieces, she knew when she was beingcourted. They met, touched noses, wagged tails, and Sue became aware ofthe man who appeared on the scene.

  He was a young man built on the same general proportions as a Percheronstallion, and he hadn't had a haircut for about six months or a shavefor at least three years. But he knew a good hound when he saw one andhe had long since mastered the art of putting hounds at ease. His voicewas laden with magic when he called,

  "Here, girl. Come on, girl. Come on over."

  Because she was hungry, and saw nothing to distrust in the shaggy younggiant, but largely because the great black and tan hound paced amiablybeside her, Sue obeyed. She buried her nose in the dish of food theyoung man offered her and started gobbling it up.

  So wholeheartedly did Sue give herself to satisfying her hunger that therope was about her neck and she was tied before she was even aware ofwhat had happened.

  * * * * *

  Paying not the least attention to the big bluebottle fly that buzzed hernose, Sue stretched full-length and dozed in the sun. Trees that hadbeen bare when she came to Rafe Bradley's were full-leafed. Flowersbloomed beneath them. Birds had long since ceased chirping threats toeach other and had settled down to the serious business of buildingnests and raising families.

  First impressions of Rafe Bradley's farm were more than borne out bysubsequent developments. Rafe kept a good horse, but it was for ridingrather than plowing. Besides the horse, Rafe's domestic livestockconsisted of some pigs that ran wild in the woods until Rafe wantedpork, which he collected with his rifle.

  Rafe, his horse, and his big hound had left early this morning to takecare of some important business in the woods. Since Rafe's onlyimportant business was hunting something or other, it followed that hewas hunting now. Sue raised her head and blinked at the green borderaround the clearing.

  Mun Mundee had told Harky that Sue could not abide a rope, and shecouldn't. But the rope was there, it had not been off since the day Rafeput it there, and Sue could choose between giving herself a permanentlysore neck by fighting the rope and submitting. She did what a sensiblehound would do.

  If Rafe had not tied her, his big hound would have been sufficientattraction to keep her around for at least a few days. After that, shemight have fallen in with life as it was lived at Rafe's and been happyto remain.

  Rafe had tied her, and for that he could not be forgiven. Sue lived forthe day she would be free to return to Mun Mundee. With an abiding faiththat everything would turn out for the best if only she was patient, Suewas sure that day would come. Until it did, she might as well sleep.

  The bluebottle fly, tiring of its futile efforts to annoy her, buzzedimportantly off in search of a more responsive victim. Sue opened onebloodshot eye then closed it again. She sighed comfortably, went back tosleep, and was shortly enjoying a happy dream about another coon hunt.

  When the sun reached its peak she rose, lapped a drink from the dish ofwater Rafe had left for her, and sought the shade of her kennel. Rafewould return with evening. She would be fed, sleep in her kennel, andtomorrow would be another day.

  Rafe did not come with twilight. The rope trailing beside her like arustling worm, Sue came out of her kennel and whined. She was notlonesome for Rafe, but she was hungry. Sue paced anxiously for as far asthe rope would let her go.

  Whippoorwills, flitting among the trees at the borders of the clearing,began their nightly calling. She lapped another drink and resumed herhungry pacing. Then, just before early evening became black night, thewhippoorwills stopped calling. A moment later it became apparent thatsomeone was coming.

  Their arrival was heralded by an unearthly clatter and rattling thatpuzzled Sue until they entered the clearing. Then she saw that they weretwo men in a car, a marvelous vehicle held together with hay wire andcomposed of so many different parts of so many different cars that evenan expert would have had difficulty determining the original make. Thecar quivered to a halt and one of the two men bellowed at the darkhouse,

  "Rafe! Hey, Rafe! Whar the blazes be ya, Rafe?"

  There was a short silence. The second man broke it with a plaintive,

  "Kin ya tie that? First night in two years coons raid our ducks, Rafean' that hound of his gotta be chasin'!"

  "He would," the first man growled.

  The second's roving eye lighted on the kennel and then noticed Sue."Thar's another hound."

  "Ya don't know," the first said, "that it'll hunt coons."

  The second declared, "If it's Rafe's, it'll hunt coons. I'm goin' to gitit."

  "Keerful," the first man warned. "That Major hound'll take the arm offanybody 'cept Rafe what tries to touch it."

  "Le's see what this'n does."

  The second man left the hybrid car and approached Sue, who waited withappeasing eyes and gently wagging tail. When the man laid his hand onher head, Sue licked his fingers.

  "Tame's a kitten," the man declared jubilantly. "I'll fetch her."

  He untied the rope, and the instant she was free, Sue slipped aside andraced toward the woods. Not in the least affected by the anguished,"Here, doggie! Come on back, doggie!" that rose behind her, she enteredthe forest at exactly the same point she'd left it to meet RafeBradley's hound.

  The cries faded and only the whisper of the wind kept her company as Suetraveled on. Suddenly there was a great need that had not existed beforeto put distance between herself and Rafe Bradley's clearing. Suetraveled until near morning, then crawled gratefully beneath the thickbranches of a wind-toppled pine. She turned around and around to smootha bed.

  The sun was just rising when her pup was born.

  * * * * *

  Almost five months after she left it, Precious Sue came once again intoher own land. Where she had once been gaunt, she was now little morethan a skeleton. But the pup that frisked beside her, and was markedexactly like her, was fat and healthy enough. There just hadn't beenenough food for two.

  Precious Sue fell, and the pup came prancing to leap upon her, seize herear, and pull backwards while it voiced playful growls. Sue got up. Headlow, staggering, she labored over a fallen sapling that the pup leapedeasily. She reached the top of the hill she was trying to climb.

  From the summit, she saw Willow Brook sparkling like a silver ribbon inthe sunshine. Just beyond were the buildings of the Mundee farm. Suesighed happily, almost ecstatically, and lay down a second time.

  She did not get up.