ago, I was so hungry. But the mare"--here he moved to the window--"is
she all right? Spitfire, I suppose--you'd kill anything else, you
rascal! But you haven't tied her!"

"No--never tie her--break her heart if I did. Todd, hang up this coat
and hat in the hall before you go."

"That's what you said of that horse you bought of Hampson--ran away,
didn't he?" persisted his host, his eyes on the mare, which had now
become quiet.

"Yes, and broke his leg. But Spitfire's all right--she'll stand. Where
will I sit--here? And now what kind of a time did you have, and who were
with you?"

"Clayton, Doctor Teackle, and the judge."

"And how many ducks did you get?" and he dropped into his chair.

"Twenty-one," answered St. George, dry-washing his white shapely hands,
as he took his seat--a habit of his when greatly pleased.

"All canvas-backs?"

"No--five redheads and a mallard."

"Where did you put up?" echoed Harry, loosening his riding-jacket to
give his knife and fork freer play.

"I spent a week at Tom Coston's and a week at Craddock. Another lump of