"I knew I was a pretty good judge o' dogs," announced Dan with pleased
conviction; "but there's some class t' bein' a judge backed up by the
French Government," and he regarded his former team with mingled
feelings of regret and satisfaction.
On they went, adding name after name to the fast growing list.
"Not Tom, Dick and Harry," the Woman exclaimed as they came to the
Tolmans. "These Veterans have served us too long and too loyally." And
"Scotty" nodded silently.
"Irish and Rover?"
But before the question could be answered, the gentle Irish Setters
gazed into her eyes beseechingly, and nosed her sleeve, confident of a
caress.
"Impossible," she murmured hastily; "they are our dear comrades. And
Spot," with an emphatic shake of the head, "belongs to George."
Finally they paused at the last two stalls and looked from Jack
McMillan to Baldy. McMillan tugged violently at his chain, striving to
reach the Woman; while Baldy, as though he understood it all, crept
close to "Scotty's" side.
Captain Haas knew both of the dogs well. He had seen Jack turned from a
career of rebellion and unrest to one of willing patient service; and
Baldy, plodding, obscure, hard working Baldy, become the boast of the
whole North.
"Here are the two," admiringly, "that please me most of all. McMillan's
strength is superb--Baldy's endurance unparalleled. What War Dogs they
would make! One I must have; it matters little which. The price--" he
gave an eloquent gesture of complete indifference.
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