Irish Red, Son of Big Red. Jim Kjelgaard

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СКАЧАТЬ setter half rose. John Price spoke sharply and the dog settled back down on the grass. Danny frowned, not understanding. A dog was more than just an animal. He furnished love, and loyalty, and companionship, and something that made you feel warm inside when you and your dog were all alone in the deep woods. A dog was not merely something that dropped, or heeled, or fetched, on command, as though he were always in a cage fashioned of his master’s thought and will. Plainly John Price thought of dogs in a way that had never occurred to either Danny or Ross.

      Danny fell in beside Mr. Haggin, and they followed Ross and John Price toward the wire cage. Sheilah’s four children came yelling to meet them, and reared against the wire. Ross picked Mike up and dropped him beside his brother and sisters.

      “Ever see a nicer-looking bunch of pups?” Mr. Haggin said proudly.

      For a moment John Price did not speak. “No,” he said slowly, “I never did, Uncle Dick. I never saw a nicer-looking bunch—or a more useless one.”

      “Useless?” Danny bristled.

      “That’s exactly what I mean. What are those four pups ever going to do besides add to Uncle Dick’s collection of blue ribbons? The fifth won’t even do that; he might better be shot right now.”

      “Shot!” Danny gasped.

      “It’s straight talk. Oh, nobody will deny that the Irishman’s a beautiful dog; the average Irish setter has a more striking appearance and more flash than bench winners of almost any other breed. That’s exactly their trouble. People who care more about looks than anything else have taken the Irishmen over; everything except an ability to win blue ribbons at dog shows has been bred out of them.”

      “Did you ever shoot behind a good Irish setter?”

      John Price laughed. “There aren’t any good ones.”

      “That isn’t so! My Red dog, he’ll out-run and out-hunt anything that’s ever been in the Wintapi!”

      Danny stopped, remembering something he had momentarily forgotten. Red had been able to out-run and out-hunt anything in the Wintapi. Red was now a cripple. His hunting ability was unimpaired, but he couldn’t possibly match the pace of a young, fast dog.

      “Before you two get to fighting,” Mr. Haggin said, “maybe I’d better explain what this is all about. John’s got the idea that, if we switch to English setters, we can collect some field trial cups as well as bench wins. He says he’ll prove it. The dog that came up here with us, John says, is going to take the National Field Trials.”

      “You,” Danny stammered, “you aren’t going to sell your Irish setters?”

      “Not yet anyhow; John hasn’t proven a thing. But I’ll back the best dog.”

      “Oh,” Danny said.

      He felt a dull emptiness that began at the pit of his stomach and spread both ways. Until now, there had been no word or thought of selling Sheilah and the pups, and switching to some other dog. Danny was staggered by the very thought of such a thing. John Price spoke eagerly.

      “Let me show you what I mean, Uncle Dick! Obviously these pups haven’t even been yard-broken, but you said there were two older dogs here and both hunted. Pit either of them against any of the eight English setters I brought, and you’ll see the difference yourself!”

      Mr. Haggin looked at Danny. “What do you say?”

      Danny shook a miserable head. “Red couldn’t keep up in a fast heat. You know that.”

      “Sheilah hunts.”

      “You have to understand Sheilah, Mr. Haggin. She’ll hunt for us, but I don’t know what she’d show if you put her down and made her hunt.”

      John Price was grinning triumphantly. Ross noticed it.

      “We’ll bring Sheilah down,” he said. “When?”

      “Tomorrow morning at eight,” John Price said.

      “We’ll be there.”

      The two men remounted their horses, and on command the black and white English setter rose to follow. Danny stared at their retreating backs, and turned to Ross.

      “Why did you say that?”

      “That John Price, he thought we were afraid.”

      “You know Sheilah.”

      “We can’t back down, Danny.”

      “Better rub your rabbit’s foot, then. We’ll need all the luck we can get.”

      Danny strolled gloomily to the cabin. Red was nowhere to be seen, but Sheilah, who had taken herself elsewhere while strangers visited, thumped the floor boards with her plumed tail as Danny approached. Danny stooped to stroke her head.

      Never a fast or flashy hunter, or one that cared a bit about playing to the grandstand, Sheilah was still a first-rate gun dog and able to hold her own in most company. Trouble would arise because of her make-up.

      She was so gentle, and emotional, that a harsh word could send her trembling into the nearest corner. At all times she must be positive that she was in the good graces of the human beings around her, but so well had Danny and Ross handled her that, in turn, Sheilah gave herself completely to them. She trusted no one else, and regardless of how they coaxed, she would never let herself be caressed by anyone else. She was strictly a one-family dog who would break her heart for the people she loved and trusted. What would she do if other people were present and how would she react when competing with one of John Price’s robots? Tomorrow would tell that tale.

      Red limped out of the woods onto the porch, threw himself down beside Sheilah, and Danny scratched the big dog’s ears. A lump rose in his throat. There had been a time, not too long ago, when Red could have challenged anything in John Price’s kennels and beaten it easily. That time was past and would never come back again. Danny sighed and got up; it was time to give the pups a run.

      He let Red and Sheilah into the cabin and opened the gate to the puppies’ cage. Out they boiled, streaming past Danny as they raced helter-skelter across the clearing. The gorgeous Sean, perfection itself, led the pack. Then came his three sisters while, for a moment, Mike lagged in the rear.

      Danny’s eyes widened. Mike was the smallest of the pups, and therefore the shortest-legged. But Mike never had been one to let minor handicaps interfere with the more important things and right now the most important consisted of catching Sean. Mike lengthened out, his belly seeming to scrape the ground as his pace became swifter. Plumed tail fluttered straight behind him, and his slim body undulated. A happy grin framed his face.

      Almost without effort he passed his three sisters and bore down on Sean. The lead puppy glanced back over his shoulder and accepted the challenge. Like ground-skimming birds they flew to the far end of the clearing, and it was there that Mike finally caught his swift brother. Instantly he attacked, and the two puppies rolled in another of their endless mock fights.

      Danny watched, puzzled and interested. Sean had been doing his best, but Mike had caught him. The smallest of the litter, he was also the fastest. And certainly there was nothing wrong with his courage. Two minutes after Ross had finished pulling porcupine quills out of his face, СКАЧАТЬ