der, isn't she. She really
bowls me over."

"Nonsense," said his sister in a low voice. "She's just a fine girl with
a steady hand and a quick eye, and," she added as Jack turned away from
her, "a true heart."

"A true heart," Jack muttered to himself, "and given to that confounded
bully of a German. If it had been any other man--but we have got one day
at least." Resolutely he brushed away the thoughts that maddened him
as he ran to Kathleen's side. Meantime, Tom and Nora had gone circling
around toward the left with Sweeper ranging widely before them.

"Let's beat round this bluff," suggested Kathleen. "They may not have
left the trees yet."

Together they strolled away through the stubble, the girl moving with
an easy grace that spoke of balanced physical strength, and with an
eagerness that indicated the keen hunter's spirit. The bluff brought no
result.

"That bluff promised chickens if ever a bluff did," said Kathleen in a
disappointed voice. "We'll get them further down, and then again in the
stubble."

"Cheer-o," cried Jack. "The day is fine and we are having a ripping
time, at least I am."

"And I, too," cried the girl. "I love this, the open fields,--and the
sport, too."

"And good company," said Jack boldly.

"Yes, good company, of course," she said with a quick, friendly glance.
"And you ARE good company to-day."

"To-day?"

"Yes. Sometimes, you know, you are rather--I don't know what to say--but
queer, as if you did not like--people, or were carrying some terrible
secret," she added with a little laugh.

"Secret? I am, but not for long. I am going to tell you the secret. Do
you want to hear it now?"

The note of desperation in his voice startled the girl. "Oh, no," she
cried hurriedly. "Where have we got to? There are no birds in this open
prairie here. We must get back to the stubble."

"You are not interested in my secret, then?" said Jack. "But I am going
to tell you all the same, Kathleen."

"Oh, please don't," she replied in a distressed voice. "We are having
such a splendid time, and besides we are after birds, aren't we? And
there are the others," she added, pointing across the stubble field,
"and Sweeper is on point again. Oh, let's run." She started forward
quickly, her foot caught in a tangle of vetch vine and she pitched
heavily forward. Jack sprang to catch her. A shot crashed at their ears.
The girl lay prone.

"My God, Kathleen, are you hurt?" said Jack.

"No, no, not