e bond of sympathy that is
not confined to man. Then Comet would feel better and would want to
play, for he was still half puppy. Sometimes he would pick up a stick
and shake it, and his partner would catch the other end. They would
tug and growl with mock ferocity, and then lie down and look at each
other curiously.

If any attention had been paid him by Larsen, Comet would have quickly
overcome his feeling of strangeness. He was no milksop. He was like an
overgrown boy, off at college or in some foreign city. He was
sensitive, and not sure of himself. Had Larsen gained his confidence,
it would all have been different. And as for Larsen--he knew that
perfectly well.

One fine sunny afternoon Larsen entered the yard, came straight to
him, and turned him loose. In the exuberance of his spirits he ran
round and round the yard, barking in the faces of his friends. Larsen
let him out, mounted a horse, and commanded him to heel. He obeyed
with wagging tail.

A mile or more down the road Larsen turned off into the fields. Across
his saddle was something the young pointer had had no experience
with--a gun. That part of his education Thompson had neglected, at
least put off, for he had not expected that Comet would be sent away
so soon. That was where Thompson had made a mistake.

At the command "Hi on" the young pointer ran eagerly around the horse,
and looked up into the man's face to be sure he had heard aright. At
something he saw there the tail and ears drooped momentarily, and
there came over him again a feeling of strangeness, almost of dismay.
Larsen's eyes were mere slits of blue glass, and his mouth was set in
a thin line.

At a second command, though, he galloped off swiftly, boldly. Round
and round an extensive field of straw he circled, forgetting any
feeling of strangeness now, every fibre of his being intent on the
hunt, while Larsen, sitting on his horse, watched him with appraising
eyes.

Suddenly there came to Comet's nose the smell of game birds, strong,
pungent, compelling. He stiffened into an earnest, beautiful point.
Heretofore in the little training he had had Thompson had come up
behind him, flushed the birds, and made him drop. And now Larsen,
having quickly dismounted and tied his horse, came up behind him, just
as Thompson had done, except that in Larsen's hand was the gun.

The old-fashioned black powder of a generation ago makes a loud
explosion. It sounds like a cannon compared with the