 The National Broadcasting Company presents another in the series of famous stories for the young of all ages. Adventure Ahead. This week, The Biscuit Eater by James Street. A story of hunting dogs and the men and boys who raised them. The story of a scrawny little water-eyed pup that folks down south wouldn't have called a biscuit eater. Adventure Ahead. Seven-year arrivals came to Harvey McNeil's place down in the Planywood country of Mississippi. And two young men were soon on hand to welcome the furry little strangers. Hello boys. Morning Papa. Hi there Mr. McNeil. That's Callerney, ain't you boys? We come to see Bunny Blue's new puppy. Oh. That's right Mr. McNeil. We can see him, can't we? I reckon so. Be careful of him. Come on in the shed. Alright. There they are boys. Golly. All seven of them. Bunny Blue. Look at them little old pups. Golly, they sure as little. Ain't hardly got their eyes open, Mr. McNeil. No. Could I hold one on Papa? Could I? Sure, Lonnie. Hand them easy. Bonnie's got her eye on you. You hurt one of them and she'll jump you like a bluejay jumps a Junebug. I'll be careful. Hiya, puppy dog. How you doing little puppy dog? That they's gonna make the best way bird dog. Yes, sirree. Bad tail. They ought to make good hunting dogs. Bunny Blue was a grand champion in a day. Almost as good as our silver bell. Mr. Ange's pointer? Uh-huh. That Mr. Ames shows a lot of superfound bird dogs. Well, he's a sportsman, Tex. He likes dogs, particularly champions. That's why I like to work for him. If these dogs will be champions, Mr. McNeil, Jim and Natty, they'll take the birds easy. Well, it's more than just that, Tex. They'll have to be trained and looked after for a long time. Maybe a year before they can enter the field trials. They'll take care of their eyes and ears. Give them shots so they're healthy. Right kinds of food. Golly. They must be a powerful out of trouble. No. There's no trouble at all when you really love dogs. And you get a reward for your work, too. They're real champions someday. Well, I'll just put you back with your mama, little old puppy dog, because you're gonna be a champion someday. There. Mr. McNeil, how long you expect it'll be until these little old pups win the ribbon at them field trials? Well, they won't all be champions. Huh? What do you mean, Papa? Boys, there's a difference between those seven pups. They're years? Look all the same to me. What makes them different? The bloodline. Huh? Most every litter of puppies has a doubtful strain. Bad streak from their pappy or grandpappy who wasn't so good. That bad strain in the bloodline shows up in one or two pups of every litter. Every litter? Uh-huh. Now, you take these seven little pups. Their pappy was a fair-to-mill and bird dog. Till he started killing farmer Eben Sheep. Yes. I know. What happened to him? Had to shoot him, Tex. That's the coat of the piney woods. The dog kills sheep with chickens. He has to die. That bad streak of strain most always shows up in the litter. It always comes out. But how can you tell? Oh, it's not hard, Donny. You mean one of these little old puppies is a bad one on account of his pappy? Yeah. Well, well, which one? This little scrawny one. Here on the end. Oh, here you go, boy. See the size of him, boys? Uh-huh. He's showing a little pup. He's the runt. Scrawny spots all over him like freckles. Stringy tail. Never make a champion. In other words, this dog's just a biscuit eater. A biscuit eater? Means that that's all he's good for is to fetch his own food, his own meat and biscuit. All right, boy. Ain't he'll probably turn out to run rabbits and kill sheep and chickens just to feed himself? A biscuit eater's a no-count dog, all right. But Mr. McNeil, this little old pup don't look like a biscuit eater. Well, I'll tell you one thing, Tex. Yes, sir? This one won't be trained in my kennels. Well, what you're going to do with him, Papa? Have to take him away, son. But why? This little pup's a no-account. He'd be giving me nothing but trouble if I let him grow up. You mean you're going to kill him? Now, don't look at it that way, son. You shouldn't do it. But, son... I was a run. I got freckles. Why don't you drown me? Now, Lonnie, don't talk that away. Well... Well, there's a baton in most every litter. This is just a no-good pup. But, Tanya's for it, Mr. McNeil. Papa, I don't want nothing to happen to him. I don't either. Couldn't we have him, Mr. McNeil, if and you don't want him? No, boys, I... Please, Papa. But, son... Don't do nothing to him, Papa. We'd like to have him. Now, Lonnie, I can't have him around my other dogs here in the kennels. We could keep him in my cabin. My folks wouldn't mind. Sure, sure. We could do that, Papa. Well... We could train him to be our own special bird dog. Couldn't we, Tanya? You bet. Well... All right, boys, you can have it. Gee, thank you, Papa. But someday you'll be sorry I'm afraid when he starts chasing chickens and rabbits and maybe killing sheep. Just remember, sonny, this little run is just a no-good biscuit eater. We got us a dog, Lon, a real show-nuff dog. Uh-huh. And it's all our own, too. Any of you? Sure is. Come here, little old puppy. Come here, boy. Look at them big ol' eyes and them big ol' feet and that big ol' short tail. Uh-huh. Bet he can pour in birds from here to Yanda. Bet if he tries to can pour in a pot of your own light bread. He's a fine dog, all right. I hope your Aunt Charri don't mind just keeping him here at your cabin. No, she don't mind. You call him, Tex. See if he comes to you. Hip-hop. Hip-hop. Hip-hoppy dog. Looky here, Lon. He comes right over. Sure. I just know he's going to be a fine bird dog when he grows up. Well, I hope so. Say. What? We ain't got a name for our dog. Gee, no. Oh, we've got to have a name. What do we call him? Uh... How about more over? More over? Uh-huh. What kind of name is that? It's a Bible name. It is? Well, I sure know. It's in the Bible. Whereabouts? I don't know exactly, but I heard the preacher say so. He said more over the dog followed Noah. He did? More over the dog. That's right. Well, if more was good enough for the Bible, I reckon it's good enough for us. That's what we'll call him. Howdy, little pup. Your name's Noah. Your name's more over. Yes, the more over. What do you think of that? See, they're long. Uh-huh. He likes the Bible name. Don't you more over. When are we going to start training him long? Well, the sooner a bear, I reckon. We're going to train him like your puppy trains his dogs? Sure. You're as I can remember how my papa does it. Mr. McNeil sure makes tramping bird dogs. Kind of wish he'd train our little pup. He wouldn't. You heard him say he's a biscuit eater. Hush up, little old pup. Besides, my papa's too busy training Silverbell. Mr. Ames's dog? Uh-huh. I just hope our little old pup turns out to hunt like Silverbell. She's already won four ribbons at the county field trials. Golly. That Mr. Ames is a he-pleased with a real champion. He's up at our place now, Mr. Ames. Uh-huh. Comes down once a month to talk to my papa and see all his dogs. Guess we wouldn't do so good if it wasn't for Mr. Ames. What do you mean, Lone? Well, he pays my papa for raising his hunting dogs and his champion dogs for the field trials. Of course, Mr. Ames likes to have pure, de-first-class bird dogs. I'm glad he ain't got more of them, huh? Mr. Ames wouldn't have no truck with our little old puppy dogs. Why not? Well, on account of my papa says we got a biscuit eater. Hey, Lone. Huh? Look at Malvin. He acts just like, like he knew what a biscuit eater is. Golly. Well, he sure does. Look, and he really knows what a biscuit... I should. Don't say it. Huh? Oh, no. We mustn't, must we? Remember what that name means? Yeah. We got us a real intelligent dog here, Tex. We gotta be careful. Never to call him a... You know what? Golly, yeah. You just cheer up little old puppy dogs. We ain't never, never call you that name again. Here, girl. Come in, Silverbell. Easy now. That's the girl. Here she is, Miss Ames. Hello, there, Silverbell. Nice girl. Oh, she's a fine dog, MacNeil. Yes, sir. Looking better every time I see her. Aren't you old enough? New bed. All right. Run along now, Silverbell. Back to your couch. Oh, she's a fine dog. I think we've got every reason to be proud of her, MacNeil. You've done a good job. Thank you, Miss Ames. You're giving up plenty of training? The field every day? Every minute I can spare. Good. Of course, the county field trials are a long way off, but this year, I want to make certain that Silverbell wins the ribbon, MacNeil. I think I know why. You've guessed it. One more blue ribbon here, and then the national trials at Grand Junction, Tennessee. That's a big meeting up there. Not the fine bird dogs. But I think Silverbell's appointed to give them a run for their money. You do, huh? Yeah. Well, your word is good enough for me. You've done a fine job of raising my dogs, MacNeil, and as long as they keep on winning all the meets and field trials, I won't ever complain. All right. But seriously, MacNeil, you've got a big job on your hands raising and training all these dogs, and you've been doing it all yourself as long as I've known. You're not getting any younger, MacNeil. What do you mean? Well, don't you think you ought to get some assistance? Hire some men to help you handle the dogs? Well, I have thought about it, but I love these dogs, Miss Ames. I understand them. I'd kind of be afraid. We're just anybody to take care of them. Oh, of course I. I know how you must feel about them. Besides, with the war and all, I don't know where I'd find anybody to help me. Well, what about your son, Lonnie, and that little text-seller? Couldn't they do a man's work? Oh, boys. No, I'm afraid not. Maybe someday, but not soon. They got an awful lot to learn. Hey, you, Moeova. How are you supposed to be a hi-rating dog making all that noise? Moeova, come here. You just got to be quiet when you're hunting birds. Them quails are going to fly away if you make a lot of noise. They sure will. Now, let's try it again, Moeova. Go get them, dog. Go get them. Dex, look at him. Go through the grass. He moves fast, and he ain't making a sound. No. He's a natural born bird, dog, Lon. Natural born. Yes. And he ain't no biscuit here. Well, boys, still trying to train that dog. Yes, Mr. McNeil. We're going to use a shotgun over him tomorrow. That's so. I'm sure it'll land a third gun. Well, you boys, be careful. I don't care if you kill a dog, but don't hurt yourselves. Easy. He's out alone. Boy. The show is a good bird, dog. We've been training Moeova every day like this for a long time. Uh-huh. Just about six months, I guess. Garly. The show has grown up, and the show has turned out a plumb, super fun, high-rated dog. Not working your dog today? He's out with Dex. Oh. Uh, I wanted to ask you, Papa, about the papers I'm more over. Papers? What about them? Well, I... That is, me and Tex. We want to register them. Register? Yes, sir. Uh, we'd like to have his papers if you got them. Oh, I reckon they're around here someplace. But, well, I don't see what good they'll do you. Only time you might need them was if you were going to enter a field trial. Well, were you thinking of running that dog in a trial at the county seat next month, huh? Yes, sir. That's just what I aimed to do. What? I want to run more over in the county trials next month. But... You ain't serious, son. Yes, I am. But, Lonnie... It's a good chance to win. Is there any other dog up there? All right, go over. But, of course, money to enter a dog at the county seat. Where'd you figure to get the empathy? Well, I hadn't thought about that. Son. You haven't got a chance at the trial. That's why that dog of yours is just a biscuit eater. He ain't either. Wait. He don't even like to be called a biscuit eater. Me and Tex thought I know. He ain't a biscuit eater. That still remains to be seen, Lonnie. Well... Well, anyway. Me and Tex want to run him in the county trials. We want to give him a chance. You mean it, don't you? Okay. I'll tell you what I'll do. Yes, sir? I'll give you and Tex a job. Painting all my kennel houses. You can earn your entropy. Jim and Nettie. Is it a go? Yes, sir. Rebaugh. I'll stake your dog to the entropy if you want to throw your money away. But don't say I didn't warn you of one thing. What do you mean, Papa? Silver bells entered in that field trial. Well, McNeil, how's our champion? Ready for the big show? All set, Miss Neal. I saw you drive in a while ago. Quite a load on your truck. Well, yes, sir. Two boys and two dogs. Brought Lonnie and Tex with me. Uh, two dogs? You know, the boys have got a puff there entering in the town. Oh! A little competition for silver bells, huh? Well, not hardly. Uh, how does this field look, Miss Neal? There's not a thing to worry about, McNeil. I've already looked over most of the entries and our silver bell is in a class. She can't be beaten. Well, how is he, Tex? How's our little old dog? That's weight, Lon. I've been brushing him down. Gee, more of a look than I used to find. What did you find out from the judges? Oh, it looks easy, Tex. It do? When our turn comes, we get two chances to point a cove of quail out in the field yonder. Uh-huh. And the judges watch the dog and me, and when moreover's made a point, we get two chances to point a cove of quail out in the field yonder. Uh-huh. And the judges watch the dog and me, and when moreover's made a point, they give us a regular mark for how good he is. Golly. Hope he gets enough marks to win. Only one thing worries me, Tex. Why? Well, the judges paired up all the entries, so two dogs run the field at the same time. And our dog's gonna work the field with silver bell. Silver bell? Uh-huh. We're the last two dogs on the meet. Well, what's wrong with that? What don't you see, Tex? Silver bell is Mr. Angel's dog raised in trains. And if moreover was to beat out Silver bell, well, Mr. Angel's will have to get riled up and my papa might lose his job. Golly. I never thought of that. I want moreover to win, but I wouldn't want that to happen. Your papa talk about it to you? No. Reckon, he don't think we got a chance to win. A show if we could win. So do I, Tex. Here they come. Both of them. Huh? Must have come from the judges' room. Well, well, well. Hello, boys. Hi to Mr. Angel. Mr. McNeil. Are you busy, son? Yes, sir. Well, well, hi, boy. So this is the other entry from the McNeil kennel, sir. Yes, Mr. Angel. Name's moreover. He's a natural-born bird dog. Is that so? I understand your dog is running against my Silver bell in the last contest of the meet. Yes, sir. I hope your dog don't show up Silver bell too bad in the finals, eh, Mr. Angel? Hey, we'd better get back to our kennel, McNeil. The field trials are about to start. Yes, sir. Goodbye, boys. And good luck. Thank you, sir. We'll meet at the truck, boys, when it's all over. Yes, and Mr. McNeil. Wait a minute, Mr. McNeil. Huh? Uh, that dog back there. What about it? Did you take a good look at that dog? Well, eh. He's mighty well-built. His legs, muscles, and the way he holds his tail. He may look like a champion, Miss Ames. That dog's no good. You don't think he's a threat, huh? That dog? Not a chance. Silver bell couldn't lose against a hound like that. Yeah. A dog that ain't been brought up right at train proper. You take my word for it, Mr. Ames. That, moreover, is just a biscuit eater. The event of the afternoon. As before, the two competing dogs will be judged on performance. The way they range the field and locate birds, and the way they hold a point. I might mention that the marks of the dogs competing so far have fallen way below the record set last year by Silver Bell. And now, the last two dogs. Final event. The well-known and famous champion pointer owned by Mr. Jefferson Ames. Second dog named Monty. Well, honey, won't be long now. No, sir. Hey, boy. You'll thank your dog and beat my champion, Silver Bell? Yes, sir. I know he can. Well, good luck anyway, son. You men ready? Yes, sir. All set. All right, then. Hey, would you look at that new dog go? King dog, all right? What's his name? Mova. Movin' fast. He sure means business. He's going and won't take him long to range the whole field. There's a real dog, Mr. Ames. Runnin' circles around your Silver Bell. Yes, I never saw anything like it. Ah, knows his stuff. Already got one perfect point marked up, and your dog's still range in the field. Moreover, I thought that dog was a champion. What'd you say, Mr. Ames? Uh, nothing. Say, hey, look, a new point. Oh, that's more over. We've got another point. And a perfect point, too. Yes, this will win the meetup. Lonnie can make him hold it. That dog's froze up like a statue. Never seen nothing like it in my life. Why, that's perfect. That dog's no biscuit eater. Hey, hey, hey. There's a boy. Hands over the boy. What? Boy's moving up behind his dog. Well, he shouldn't do that. He's liable to make the dog break his point. That dog breaks now. He'll lose the meet. Lonnie, come back, Lonnie. Lonnie. Getting closer and closer. What in Sam Hill's the boy doing? Wait. He's talking. He's talking to his dog. You've never heard of that before. What's he saying? I wish you could win this meet. And right now, if you just hold still another minute, I reckon you could be champion. A real champion. He can't let you win more over. Watch as it hurts me way down inside. Because if Mr. Ange's dog don't win, my papa loses job. Try to understand, little old dog. I'm going to make you break your point. I don't want to do it more over. What I have to. Break that point more over. You hear me? Break your point. Let the birds go more over. Papa. But why, son? More over would have won the meet, Lonnie. Why didn't he break his point? I reckon... I reckon he just ain't good enough to be a... a champion. Well, Miss James, Silver Bell won again. Yes. But there's something about all this that I don't understand. Well, the main thing is that we won, ain't it? No, no, McNeil, that's not the main thing. Huh? I may drive down to your place tonight. Tonight? And I'd like to see Lonnie when I get there. Right now, I'm going to have a talk with the judges about that first prior's ribbon. Lonnie? Yes, Papa? What's the matter, son? Nothing. I haven't said a word for two hours. Ever since we got home. No, sir. I wish you'd talked to me, son. Tell me what's wrong. Maybe I could. Somebody at the door. I'll open it. Might be Miss James. Said he was driving down tonight. Whoa, hello, Jack. How are you, Lonnie? I'm a little old dog. Come on. I couldn't keep more of it down to my cabin. He just kept parrying and carrying on. He's happy. Now ain't you more over? Well, take it. Howdy, Mr. McNeil. Still loyal to that dog after the tricky pull on you today, huh? I couldn't hold him. He just had to see long. He misses me, Papa. He don't want to stay down in the cabin. Nevertheless, he'll have to. I reckon that's Miss Ames. Let him in. He sure find dog long. Moreover, I will never hurt you again. Well, hello, Miss James. Come in. Hello, McNeil. Ah, Lonnie's still up. Good. Hello, Lonnie. Tech? Evening, Mr. Ames. Boys have your dog with you, huh? Yes, sir. Well, that's good. Because I want to talk about this dog. What do you mean, Miss James? What's the matter? Seems to be a lot to matter, McNeil. First of all, you were wrong about this dog. You don't know as much about dogs as I thought you did. But that's partly my fault, maybe. We were both too proud of Silverbell and not proud enough of this dog. What are you getting at, Miss James? More over. Good boy. Take a good look at this dog, McNeil. Well, you're looking at a champion. A champion? A champion? I had a little talk with the judges, boys, after you left this afternoon. They gave me something that rightfully belongs to you and your dog. Here. The ribbons. Well, are the dog gone? The first prize. That's right, boys. But... Look at him more over. The first prize were ribbons. What is all this, Miss James? Some more over happened to win the county trials today. But Silverbell... I withdrew Silverbell. Had her disqualified. You what? But why? Why? I'll tell you why, McNeil, because your son here is too much of a man to ever tell you himself. Lonnie? What happened? Lonnie threw the championship this afternoon so that Silverbell could win. You see, somehow he had the mistaken idea that the field trial meant more to you and me than it should to a couple of sportsmen. Is... Is this true, son? Yes, Papa. I don't say I didn't hate losing that meat today. I thought Silverbell was the greatest bird dog of all time. But it took a young man a lot braver than I to prove that I was wrong. And I... I reckon I was wrong, too. From now on, more over's gonna stay here where he belongs. Hey, Minetti. Hey, Papa, that'll be fine. And, uh, one thing more, McNeil. Yes, Miss James? About the health situation. You think you might be needing some good experienced dog handlers? Well, I... I reckon I could use a couple. Uh-huh. Two, maybe? Yeah. But, uh, good men ain't easy to find these days. No. But I happen to know of two men who just filled the bill. Oh, Mr. Ames? Well, uh, the two men that I had in mind are right here, unless you're... That's the funny thing, Mr. Ames. I was thinking of the same two fellas. You reckon they'd be interested? Golly, yes. I'll say. How about it, more over? Adventure Ahead has presented The Biscuit Eater by James Street in a radio dramatization written by Tom Goutay. In today's play, the part of Lonnie McNeil was played by Georgie Ward. Others in the cast were Jim Bowles, Jackie Ayres, James Van Dyke, Kermit Murdoch, Mawton Begley, Lewis John, and Brad Barker. The music was composed by Leo Kampinski, and the orchestra was directed by Andrei Narsko. The entire production was under the direction of Joseph Mansfield.