her father, old Burton
pushed through the crowd about her.

"I'll attend to that," he said.

He saw the quick friendliness in her upraised eyes. Had he not shown
faith throughout in her dog?

Out in the hall he spoke to the men: "Telephone Ferris," he said. "He's
stopping with the postmaster. Tell him to come at once."

In his own room he got out his stationery and pen and wrote, quickly, in
a bold hand that dashed across the sheet. But the excitement of it must
have told on him, for he dated the letter two days back, on Thursday.

When the door opened he looked up. There was Ferris, his face jubilant.
Behind Ferris was the girl. At sight of her old Burton did a funny
thing. He put his hand over the letter he had been writing.

"I just wanted to be sure," she said--"Dad, you know."

"I'll attend to that," he said impatiently.

After she was gone he hastily addressed the letter.

"Close the door, Ferris," he said. "You know the postmaster well, don't
you? You've known him for years. Well, tell him he won't get into any
trouble over this. Tell him it's often done. Tell him if he does get
into trouble, I'll make it all right. Tell him he'll be glad he got into
it. Tell him to stamp this letter two days back--January 27th--and mail
it to-night. Send a telegram signed 'Jessie' to old Arnold, saying his
dog--his dog, mind you--is National Champion. Hurry now!"

Late the next afternoon a crippled dog handler tore open a letter. It
had come on the same train with his daughter and with the National
Champion, who now lay before the fire. As his master opened the letter
this champion looked up, and tapped the floor with his tail.

Beside her father stood Jessie, amazed at what she saw in the letter.

Thursday morning, January 27.
DEAR SIR:

I have just seen your dog work out in a preliminary test. He's a
far worse bolter than even you had led me to believe. According to
your representation, your daughter could handle him. I find her
absolutely incapable of doing so. Under the circumstances I feel
justified in cancelling our agreement. Yours truly,

WILLIAM BURTON.

"The old quitter!" cried Arnold, his eyes blazing. "God knows I'm glad
to get my dog. Three thousand couldn't get him now. But who would have
thought----"

And eyes still blazing with anger and joy and excitement, he told the
gir