ipper
there got three birds to her one. Got 'em within range, too."

"Ah, but Stewart, yon's a good bitch," said Sandy.

"Look here!" cried his friend, "I have bred more dogs in the old country
than those men ever saw in their lives."

"That may be, Stewart, but yon's a good bitch," persisted Sandy.

For a mile more they discussed the merits of Slipper and of his rivals,
Sandy with his semi-humorous chaff extracting quiet amusement from his
friend's wrath, and the latter, though suspecting that he was being
drawn, unable to restrain his passionate championship of his dog.

At length Sandy, wearying of the discussion, caught sight of a figure
far before them on the trail.

"Who is that walking along there?" he enquired.

Together they ran over the names of all who in this horse country were
unfortunate enough to be doomed to a pedestrian form of locomotion.

"Guess it's the preacher," said Duff finally, whose eyes were like a
hawk's.

"He's been out at my place Sunday afternoon," said Sandy, "but I haven't
met him myself. What sort is he?"

"Don't ask me. I sometimes go with the madame to church, but generally I
fall asleep. He's no alarm clock."

"Then you can't tell what sort of a preacher he is," said Sandy with a
twinkle in his eye. "You can't hear much when you are asleep."

"I hear enough to know that he's no good as a preacher. I hear they're
going to fire him."

"I tell you what it is, Stewart," said Sandy, "I don't believe you would
know a good sermon if you heard one."

"What's that you say? I've heard the best preachers in the country that
breeds preachers, in the country where preachers grow like the berries
on the bramble bushes. I know preaching, and I like good preaching,
too."

"Oh, come off, Stewart! You may be a good judge of dogs, but I'm blowed
if I am going to take you as a judge of preachers."

"The same qualities in all of them, dogs, horses, preachers," insisted
Duff.

"How do you make that out?"

"Well, take a horse. He must be a good-looker. This preacher is a
good-looker, all right, but looks ain't everything. Must be quick at the
start, must have good action, good style, staying power, and good at
the finish. Most preachers never know when to finish, and that's the way
with this man."

"Are you going to take him up?" inquired Sandy, for they were now close
upon the man walking before them.

"Oh, I guess not," replied Duff. "I haven't much use for him."

"Say, what's