Hal Is With Us - In Fact, I Can Hardly Get Away From The Poor Dog, He Is So Afraid Of Being Separated From Me Again.

When we got to the station at Pittsburg he was there with Cagey, and it took only one quick glance to see that he was a heart-broken, spirit-broken dog.

Not one spark was left of the fire that made the old Hal try to pull me through an immense plate-glass mirror, in a hotel at Jackson, Mississippi, to fight his own reflection (the time the strange man offered one hundred and fifty dollars for him), and certainly he was not the hound that whipped the big bulldog at Monroe, Louisiana, two years ago. He did not see me as I came up back of him, and as he had not even heard my voice for over one year, I was almost childishly afraid to speak to him. But I finally said, "Hal, you have not forgotten your old friend?" He turned instantly, but as I put my hand upon his head there was no joyous bound or lifting of the ears and tail - just a look of recognition, then a raising up full length of the slender body on his back legs, and putting a forefoot on each of my shoulders as far over as he could reach, he gripped me tight, fairly digging his toe nails into me, and with his head pressed close to my neck he held on and on, giving little low whines that were more like human sobs than the cry of a dog. Of course I had my arms around him, and of course I cried, too. It was so pitifully distressing, for it told how keenly the poor dumb beast had suffered during the year he had been away from us. People stared, and soon there was a crowd about us with an abundance of curiosity. Cagey explained the situation, and from then on to train time, Hal was patted and petted and given dainties from lunch baskets.

He was in the car next to ours, coming out, and we saw him often. Many times there were long runs across the plains, when the only thing to be seen, far or near, would be the huge tanks containing water for the engines. At one of these places, while we were getting water. Cagey happened to be asleep, and a recruit, thinking that Hal was ill-treated by being kept tied all the time, unfastened the chain from his collar and led him from the car.

The first thing the dog saw was another dog, and alas! a greyhound belonging to Ryan, an old soldier. The next thing he saw was the dear, old, beautiful plains, for which he had pined so long and wearily. The two dogs had never seen each other before, but hounds are clannish and never fail to recognize their own kind, so with one or two jumps by way of introduction, the two were off and out of sight before anyone at the cars noticed what they were doing.

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