At the front gate the automobile stood, a pretty thing, to be sure. Its
owner was smiling, goggle-eyed and all aglow, his hand on the wheel, or
whatever you call the steering end of it.
"Jump in, Jack, old man; we must be in a hurry. Slap Dick in there
behind with my two setters. Be in a hurry! By George! I know where
there are a dozen coveys, and we'll be there in forty minutes. Hi,
Dick! What's the matter? Get in! Confound him, what's the matter with
that old dog?"
I was lugging Dick and trying to get him in. He was kicking like a
half-roped steer. He had always jumped to his place in the little
buggy, but now--
I knew what was the matter. Even Dick, dog that he was, had his
principles, and he was man enough to say so. While I--