stunts Duff did every evening during their few months’ engagement.
One rehearsal was all the dog needed. I doubt if any chorus girl’s vanity ever took her to the theatre with more regularity than this dog’s pride in his act took him. His part was, at a given signal, to run on the stage and grab Hickey by a prepared pad concealed under the actor’s coat tails. Then Duff was swung around and around hanging by his teeth.
I sat in a front seat every night and applauded. Sometimes Duff would come to the footlights and peek over at me and wag his tail. He turned a few hand springs and jumped rope and never objected as to who came on first. This made him the most popular actor with the stage director.
In Silverton, before we went to Portland, Duff did more tricks than I could tell you of in a day’s talk. He carried in stove wood; he rode up on the hay fork holding to a sack; he sat on the cowcatcher of the locomotive; he was the retriever, the bird dog, the shepherd, the clown. He could catch a coin or a baseball that was laid on the top of his nose. He would
