de up for what he lacked in
skill; and at his fire the hen dropped fluttering in the grass that
bordered the buckwheat.

[Illustration: SHOT ON THE WING.]

"I'll pick her up!" cried Link; and he ran to do so; while Wad carried
Jack the powder and shot for another load.

"But I ought not to use up your ammunition in this way!" Jack protested.

"I guess you can afford to," replied Wad. "It was mostly bought with
money we sold that fawn-skin for."

Jack was willing enough to try another shot; and, the piece reloaded, he
resumed his tramp.

He had nearly reached the fence, when a bird rose between it and him,
and flew over Peakslow's pasture. Jack had brought the gun to his
shoulder, and was about to pull the trigger, when he remembered
Peakslow's horses, and stopped to give a hasty glance over the fence.

Down went the gun, and Jack stood astonished, the bird forgotten, and
his eyes fixed on an object beyond.

What Wad said of their neighbor having brought out a new horse from
Chicago, together with what the captain of the Heron said of one of
Peakslow's span being a light roan, rushed through his thoughts. He ran
up to the fence, and looked eagerly over; then gave a shout of joy.

After all his futile efforts to find him,--chasing about the country,
offering rewards, scattering hand-bills,--there was the lost horse, the
veritable Snowfoot, grazing quietly in the amiable Mr. Peakslow's
pasture!

CHAPTER XIV.

SNOWFOOT'S NEW OWNER.

Jack left the gun standing by the fence, leaped over, gave a familiar
whistle, and called, "Come, Snowfoot! Co' jock! co' jock!"

There were two horses feeding in the pasture, not far apart. But only
one heeded the call, lifted head, pricked up ears, and answered with a
whinny. It was the lost Snowfoot, giving unmistakable signs of pleasure
and recognition, as he advanced to meet his young master.

Jack threw his arms about the neck of his favorite, and hugged and
patted and I don't know but kissed him; while the Betterson boys went up
to the fence and looked wonderingly over.

In a little while, as they did not venture to go to him, Jack led
Snowfoot by the forelock up to the rails, which they had climbed for a
better view.

"Is he your horse?" they kept calling to him.

"Don't you see?" replied Jack, when he had come near enough to show the
white feet and the scars; and his face gleamed with glad excitement.
"Look! he and the dog know each other!"

It was not a