His height he gained quickly, like tall beanpole boys, and though big,
his bones were shapely, and the muscles began to stand out on his lank,
handsome body. At six months he was a stripling youth, two thirds pup,
one third grown dog. Though he still romped with the others, it was
plain to the practised eye that he was different. Sometimes he lay in
the shade a long time and thoughtfully gazed into the distance, dreaming
as serious-minded youths dream the world over. But all Comet's dreams
were centred in fields of broomstraw where birds lay hid and in the
thrillings his nose told him there.

At six months he set his first covey of quail, and though he was
trembling with the excited joy of one who knows he has found his life's
work, still he remained staunch several minutes. And though when the
birds flushed he chased them, he came quickly and obediently back at
Jim's command.

Everything--size, contour, nose, muscle, intelligence, spirit--pointed
to a great dog. Yes--Comet was one of the favoured of the gods.

One day after the leaves had turned red and brown and the mornings grown
chilly and pungent, a crowd of people, strangers to Comet, came to the
big house at Oak Hill. With them were automobiles, trunks, horses. All
this was tremendously exciting, and with noses pressed against the
chicken wire of their yard Comet and his brothers and sisters watched
these goings-on.

Then out of the house with Thompson came a big man in tweeds, and the
two walked straight to the curious young dogs who were watching them
with shining eyes and wagging tails.

"Well, Thompson," said the big man, "which is the future champion you've
been writing me about?"

"Pick him out yourself, sir," said Thompson.

They talked a long time, planning the future of Comet. His yard training
was over--Thompson was only yard trainer--and he must be sent to a man
experienced in training and handling for field trials. His grade-school
days were past. He must go off to college. He must be prepared for the
thrilling life of the field-trial dog.

"Larsen's the man to bring him out," said the big man in tweeds, who was
George Devant himself. "I saw his dogs work in the Canadian Derbies. I
like his methods."

Thompson spoke hesitatingly, as if he disliked to bring the matter up.

"Mr. Devant--you remember, sir, a long time ago Larsen sued us for old
Ben, saying the dog was his by rights?"

"Yes, Thompson, I remember--now you speak of it."

"