hunting coat,
where six shells rattled as he hurried along. Two of these he took out
and rammed into the barrels.

As for Comet, still standing rigid, statuesque, he heard, as has been
said, the brush of steps through the straw, glimpsed a face, and
trembled. But only for a moment. Then he steadied, head high, tail
straight out. The birds rose with a whirr--and then was repeated that
horror of his youth. Above his ears, ears that would always be tender,
broke a great roar. Either because of his excitement, or because of a
sudden wave of revenge, or of a determination to make sure of the dog's
flight, Larsen had pulled both triggers at once. The combined report
shattered through the dog's ear drums, it shivered through his nerves,
he sank in agony into the straw.

Then the old impulse to flee was upon him, and he sprang to his feet,
and looked about wildly. But from somewhere in that crowd behind him
came to his tingling ears a voice--clear, ringing, deep, the voice of a
woman--a woman he knew--pleading as his master used to plead, calling on
him not to run but to stand.

"Steady," it said. "Steady, Comet!"

It called him to himself, it soothed him, it calmed him, and he turned
and looked toward the crowd. With the roar of the shotgun the usual
order observed in field trials was broken up. All rules seemed to have
been suspended. Ordinarily, no one belonging to "the field" is allowed
to speak to a dog. Yet the girl had spoken to him. Ordinarily, the
spectators must remain in the rear of the judges. Yet one of the judges
had himself wheeled his horse about and was galloping off, and Marian
Devant had pushed through the crowd and was riding toward the bewildered
dog.

He stood staunch where he was, though in his ears was still a throbbing
pain, and though all about him was this growing confusion he could not
understand. The man he feared was running across the field yonder, in
the direction taken by the judge. He was blowing his whistle as he ran.
Through the crowd, his face terrible to see, his own master was coming.
Both the old man and the girl had dismounted now and were running toward
him.

"I heard," old Swygert was saying to her. "I heard it! I might 'a'
known! I might 'a' known!"

"He stood," she panted, "like a rock--oh, the brave, beautiful thing!"

"Where is that----" Swygert suddenly checked himself and looked around.

A man in the crowd (they had all gathered about now) laughed.

"He's gone after