dge.

The birds rose with a whirr; the little gun barked; the pointer dropped
to his haunches; it was perfect work.

"Go on, old man!" she ordered.

Then she was running back to her pony, which Ferris was holding for her.
Again Burton saw in her face the strain she was under. How precious was
every moment with a wild dog like this! She rammed the little gun in the
scabbard, sprang into the saddle, hardly seeming to touch the stirrups,
and was off.

Again Drake scored, then Count Redstone. Nearly an hour had flitted
away. Then Burton, loitering among the rearmost of the field, heard
rumours that something was wrong, and, anxiously spurring up his mount,
came upon a body of horsemen gathered in a patch of woods.

Out yonder in a cotton field, he could see the three judges gathered on
their horses like consulting generals on a battlefield. They had called
time, the men explained to Burton, until Jessie Arnold could find her
dog. A short distance from the judges Count Redstone was sitting on his
haunches, panting, and beside him stood his handler, dismounted. This
was giving Count Redstone a chance to rest, and the handler was taking
full advantage of it.

Some of the men, the group explained to Burton, were scouting for the
girl, among them Ferris. They were riding about the fields and woods
outside the course, looking for her dog. The rest of them had better
stay here; the judges would not allow too many helpers. The girl had
ridden up yonder creek bottom, the last they saw of her. She was going
like mad, they said.

But she was using her brains, they added. There are two kinds of
bolters--those who run away for the sheer love of running, and those who
from hilltops pick out the country that looks like containing birds,
and make for that country of their own sweet will. Arnold's Drake
belonged to the latter class. The girl was looking for him in the
"birdy" spots. But heaven only knew how far he had taken it into his
head to go! Old Burton got out his handkerchief and mopped his face.
Five minutes passed, then ten--and still Arnold's Drake was lost, and
out yonder the judges waited.

Then across the field toward the group in the woods came the girl. Off
to the side of these woods were extensive fields of broom straw that lay
outside the course. But they looked "birdy," those fields, and the girl
was making for them.

As she swept past, Burton glimpsed her face. It was tense with anxiety,
but the little mouth w