the matter with him? He looks rather puffed out," said
Sandy. "Better take him up."

"All right," replied Duff, pulling up his bronchos. "Good day. Will you
have a ride? Mr. Barry Dunbar, my friend Mr. Bayne."

"Glad to meet you, Mr. Bayne," said Barry, who was pale and panting
hard. "Thanks for the lift. The truth--is--I'm rather--done up. A touch
of asthma--the first--in five years. An old trouble of mine."

"Get up here," said Sandy. "There's room for three in the seat."

"No--thank you,--I should--crowd you,--all right behind here. Beastly
business--this asthma. Worse when--the pollen--from the plants--is
floating--about--so they say. I don't know--nobody does--I fancy." They
drove on, bumping over the stones, Barry gradually getting back his
wind. The talk of the men in the front seat had fallen again on dogs,
Stewart maintaining with ever increasing vehemence his expert knowledge
of dogs, of hunting dogs, and very especially of setter hunting dogs;
his friend, while granting his knowledge of dogs in general, questioning
the unprejudiced nature of his judgment as far as Slipper was concerned.

As Duff's declarations grew in violence they became more and more
elaborately decorated with profanity. In the full tide of their
conversation a quiet voice broke in:

"Too many 'damns.'"

"What!" exclaimed Duff.

"I beg your pardon!" said Sandy.

"Too many 'damns,'" said Barry, looking quietly at Duff.

"Dams? Where?" said Duff, looking about.

"Beaver dams, do you mean?" enquired Sandy. "I don't see any."

"Too many 'damns,'" reiterated Barry. "You don't need them. You really
don't need them, you know, and besides, they are not right. Profanity is
quite useless, and it's wicked."

"Well, I'll be damned!" said Stewart in a low voice to his friend. "He
means us."

"And quite right, too," said Sandy solemnly. "You know your English is
rotten bad. Yes, sir," he continued, turning round to Barry, "I quite
agree with you. My friend is quite unnecessarily free in his speech."

"Yes, but you are just the same, you know," said Barry. "Not quite so
many, but then you are not quite so excited."

"Got you there, old sport," grunted Duff, highly amused at Sandy's
discomfiture. But to Barry he said, "I guess it's our own business how
we express ourselves."

"Yes, it is, but, pardon me, not entirely so. There are others in the
world, you know, and you must consider others. The habit is a bad habit,
a rotten habit, an