e had few
friends, and so he clung the more closely to those he had. At such times
the other would wait in cool, good-tempered but determined aloofness for
his friend's return.

"You can chew your cud till you're cool again," he would say when the
outbreak would arise. But invariably their differences were composed and
their friendship remained unbroken.

The men sat in the buckboard, leaning forward with hunched shoulders,
swaying easily to the pitching of the vehicle as it rattled along the
trail which, especially where it passed over the round topped ridges,
was thickly strewn with stones. Before them, now on the trail and now
ranging wide over the prairie, ran a beautiful black and white English
setter.

"Great dog that, Sandy," said Duff. "I could have had a dozen birds this
afternoon. A wonderful nose, and steady as a rock."

"A good dog, Stewart," assented Sandy, but with slight interest.

"There ain't another like him in this western country," said the owner
of the dog with emphasis.

"Oh, I don't know about that. There are some very good dogs around here,
Stewart," replied Sandy lightly.

"But I know. And that's why I'm saying there ain't his like in this
western country, and that's as true as your name is Sandy Bayne."

"Well, my name is Sandy Bayne, all right, but how did he come out at the
Calgary trials?"

"Aw, those damned gawks! They don't know a good dog from a he-goat! They
don't know what a dog is for, or how to use him."

"Oh, now, Stewart," said Sandy, "I guess Willocks knows a dog when he
sees one."

"Willocks!" said his friend with scorn. "There's where you're wrong. Do
you know why he cut Slipper out of the Blue Ribbon? Because he wouldn't
range a mile away. Darned old fool! What's the good of a point a mile
away! Keeps you running over the whole creation, makes you lose time,
tires yourself and tires your dog; and more than that, in nine cases out
of ten you lose your bird. Give me a close ranger. He cleans up as he
goes, keeps your game right at your hand, and gets you all the sport
there is."

"Who beat you, Stewart, in the trials?"

"That bitch of Snider's."

"Man! Stewart, that's a beautiful bitch! I know her well. She's a
beautiful bitch!" Sandy began to show enthusiasm.

"Oh, there you go! That's just what those fool judges said. 'Beautiful
dog! Beautiful dog!' Suppose she is! Looks ain't everything. They're
something, but the question is, does she get the birds? Now, Sl