“Forward, old boy! Ste-e-e-ady! Forward!” The dog refused to move. “Forward, Slipper!”
Still the dog remained rigid, as if nailed to the ground.
Slowly the dog turned his head with infinite caution half round toward his master, as if in protest.
“Hello, there!” shouted Barry, “you know--”
Just as he called there was on all sides a great whirring of wings. A dozen chicken flew up from under Duff's feet. Bang! Bang! went his gun.
“Missed, as I'm a sinner!” exclaimed Sandy. “I thought he was a better shot than that.”
Back came Duff striding wide toward the buckboard. Fifty yards away he shouted:
“Say! what the devil do you mean calling like that at a man when he's on the point of shooting!” His face was black with anger. He looked ready to strike. Barry looked at him steadily.
“But, I was just reminding you that it was not the season for chicken yet,” he said in the tone of a man prepared to reason the matter.
“What's that got to do with it! And anyway, whose business is it what I do but my own?”
“Besides it isn't--well, you know, it isn't quite sporting to shoot out of season.” Barry's manner was as if dealing with a fractious child.
Duff, speechless with his passion, looked at him as if not quite sure what form his vengeance should take.
“He's quite right, Stewart,” said his friend Sandy, who was hugely enjoying himself. “You know well enough you are down on the farmer chaps who go pot hunting before season. It's rotten sport, you know.”
“Oh, hell! Will you shut up! Can't I shoot over my dog when he points? I'm not out shooting. If I want to give my dog a little experience an odd bird or two don't matter. Besides, what the--”
“Oh, come on, Stewart! Get in, and get a move on! You know you are in the wrong. But I thought you were a better shot than that,” added Sandy.
“Better shot!” he stormed. “Who could shoot with a--a--a--” he was feeling round helplessly for a properly effective word,--“with a fellow yelling at you?” he concluded lamely. “I'd have had a brace of them if it hadn't been for him.”
“In that case,” said Barry coolly, “I saved you from the law.”
“Saved me from the law! What the devil do you mean, anyway?” said Stewart. “If I want to pick up a bird who's to hinder me? And what's the law got to do with it?”