but he was also bull-headed. Always wanting his own way, he never gave an inch to anything that might stand in his path. He would be worthless unless he developed some brains and showed some willingness to cooperate.
Two hours later, shortly before dark, the panting puppy pack returned. All were soaking wet, they had been swimming in the creek, and in addition Mike had a torn ear. Somewhere out in the beech woods he had run into something, probably a prowling coon, and had evidently tried to start another fight with it.
Danny locked all five puppies in the barn, and gave them a huge pan full of food, which they started gobbling instantly. Mike, always alert for the main chance, climbed into the middle of the pan and calmly proceeded to usurp the lion’s share. Danny grinned. By any reasonable rules Mike should have been the biggest dog in the pack; he ate half again as much as any of his companions.
Soberly Danny strolled into the cabin. Red rose to come greet him, but the more restrained Sheilah wagged her welcome from her carpet in the middle of the floor. Red sat beside him when Danny seated himself on a chair and stared thoughtfully at Sheilah.
“If your face gets any longer, your lower jaw will be hittin’ your knees,” Ross observed from the stove. “What’s the matter, Danny?”
“Nothing.”
“Yes, there is. You’re afraid of tomorrow mornin’, huh?”
“We shouldn’t be using Sheilah.”
Hearing her name, Sheilah rose and padded over to sit quietly at Danny’s other side. Danny stroked her sleek head.
“Sheilah’s a good hunter,” Ross said.
“Sure. I know it and you know it. But is she going to prove it for Mr. Haggin and his nephew?”
Ross said quietly, “Danny, why did you take up with these Irish setters?”
“Because I believe in them.”
“Then don’t let Sheilah down by lickin’ her yourself, before Haggin’s dog does it.”
“Suppose he does it?”
“He ain’t done it yet. Set the table.”
Danny spent a restless night, and pecked at the breakfast Ross cooked. He locked Sean and his three sisters in the wire cage, led the unwilling Mike into the cabin, and shut the door. At once Mike reared with his paws on the window sill, his face plastered against the window. Mike entreated Danny with pleading eyes and wagging tail, and when Danny refused to let him out he set up a howling that could be heard a quarter of a mile away.
“Let him screech,” Ross said. “He won’t bother anythin’, except maybe a squirrel or two.”
When Ross snapped his fingers, Sheilah trotted confidently over to walk beside him. Danny fell in with the pair, and when Red would have followed Danny ordered him back. Red sat down in the path, ears flattened and eyes disconsolate as he watched the trio enter the woods. In Red’s opinion it was not right for Danny to go anywhere unless he went along, but he made no attempt to follow.
Without speaking they strode down the Smokey Creek trail, crossed the bridge, and came to the edge of the extensive Haggin estate. Ross worked his lips, as though he was about to say something, but he did not speak. Danny glanced sideways, knowing that his father was tense, too.
As they approached the big barns, Sheilah slowed her step and walked so close to Ross that she all but brushed his legs. Curley Jordan, one of Mr. Haggin’s men and a good friend of the Picketts, was exercising a stallion in the yard. He jerked a calloused thumb toward the house.
“Boss said to tell you he won’t be long. Stick around.”
They sat down in the grass, Sheilah resting companionably between the two, and watched Curley work. Then a stranger, dressed in jodhpurs and leather leggings, emerged from one of the tenant houses and came toward them.
He was a tall man with a fading thatch of brown hair. His face, sun-tanned and wind-creased, had obviously been exposed to every sort of weather. He smiled as he came forward.
“So you’re my competition, are you?”
“Guess so,” Danny said. “Would you be John Price’s trainer?”
“That’s me, Joe Williams.”
He looked keenly at Sheilah, and Danny warmed to him. His was the air of a man who knew dogs, and plainly he was able to see Sheilah’s good points as well as her few flaws. When he came near, Sheilah pressed her sleek head tightly against Ross’s shoulder and refused to look around.
“She doesn’t take kindly to anybody she doesn’t know,” Danny explained.
“I understand. Is she the best you’ve got?”
“Not the best hunter, but we can’t run him; he’s crippled. All we’ve got except Sheilah and Red are five unbroken pups.”
“Uh-huh. Would it be fair enough if you ran her against another bitch her own age?”
“Sure,” Ross said.
“I’ll get Belle.”
Joe Williams disappeared behind the barn, and reappeared in a short time with another English setter beside him. Danny whistled his admiration. If John Price had personally selected these English setters, he knew good stock. Belle was like the young dog that Mike had fought, but more finished. There was fire in her, and quality, and plenty of breeding. Still....Danny wrinkled his brow.
There was something else about John Price’s dogs, something Danny could not understand at all. Belle was not on a leash, but she still seemed to be confined, as though her trainer were the source of all power and strength. There could be no doubt that the English setters were perfectly trained, but they seemed to lack spontaneity. At the moment Danny could not decide whether that was good or bad.
A few minutes later John Price and Mr. Haggin appeared.
“All set, I see,” Mr. Haggin said. “Good. The heats will be run in the back field. Of course they won’t be formal, and we’ll sort of figure out the rules as we go along. All right?”
Danny walked with the group, but because Sheilah did not like to be so close to strangers, Ross dropped back. They crossed Mr. Haggin’s broad meadows, went through a straggling line of woods, and came into one of the uncultivated back fields. Danny looked questioningly at a wooden crate beneath a tree, and Mr. Haggin saw his glance.
“John wanted to be sure there’d be birds to find, so we had some pheasants brought up.”
“I see.”
Danny kept his own counsel, not voicing the protest that sprang to his lips. As far as he knew, Sheilah had never worked on anything except grouse and quail. Pheasants were entirely different, but they were game birds and Mr. Haggin was certainly trying to be fair. The heats could have been run under very formal rules, and if either dog did not live up to them, disqualification would be the penalty. Knowing that neither Danny nor Ross had ever taken part in such a trial, Mr. Haggin had said that the rules would be made as they went along. Sheilah had a chance.
John Price took over. “Each
