first covey of quail, and remained perfectly
staunch. "He's goin' to make a great dog," said Thompson.
Everything--size, muscle, nose, intelligence, earnestness--pointed to
the same conclusion. Comet was one of the favoured of the gods.

One day, after the leaves had turned red and brown and the mornings
grown chilly, a crowd of people, strangers to him, arrived at Oak
Knob. Then out of the house with Thompson came a big man in tweed
clothes, and the two walked straight to the curious young dogs, who
were watching them with shining eyes and wagging tails.

"Well, Thompson," said the big man, "which is the future champion
you've been writing me about?"

"Pick him out for yourself, sir," said Thompson confidently.

After that they talked a long time planning for the future of Comet.
His yard training was now over (Thompson was only yard trainer), and
he must be sent to a man experienced in training and handling for
field trials.

"Larsen's the man to bring him out," said the big man in tweeds, who
was George Devant himself. "I saw his dogs work in the Canadian
Derby."

Thompson spoke hesitatingly, apologetically, as if he hated to bring
the matter up. "Mr. Devant, ... you remember, sir, a long time ago
Larsen sued us for old Ben."

"Yes, Thompson; I remember, now that you speak of it."

"Well, you remember the court decided against him, which was the only
thing it could do, for Larsen didn't have any more right to that dog
than the Sultan of Turkey. But, Mr. Devant, I was there, and I saw
Larsen's face when the case went against him."

Devant looked keenly at Thompson.

"Another thing, Mr. Devant," Thompson went on, still hesitatingly;
"Larsen had a chance to get hold of this breed of pointers and lost
out, because he dickered too long, and acted cheesy. Now they've
turned out to be famous. Some men never forget a thing like that.
Larsen's been talkin' these pointers down ever since, sir."

"Go on," said Devant.

"I know Larsen's a good trainer. But it'll mean a long trip for the
young dog to where he lives. Now, there's an old trainer lives near
here, Wade Swygert. There never was a straighter man than him. He used
to train dogs in England."

Devant smiled. "Thompson, I admire your loyalty to your friends; but I
don't think much of your business sense. We'll turn over some of the
others to Swygert, if he wants 'em. Comet must have the best. I'll
write Larsen to-night, Thompson. To-morrow, crate Comet an