"I'll give you a thousand dollars cash for him!" exclaimed the banker excitedly.
The entire party broke forth with hearty applause.
It came about as follows: The dog had been sent into some weeds by Moreton to retrieve a dead bird, which he promptly did. It was as he was returning, with the game in his mouth, and leaping clear above the weed-tops, as was his habit, that he suddenly, at the highest point of a bound, turned his head half about, and stiffened himself in mid-air, on the scent of another bird. He struck the ground standing staunchly, his eyes fixed, his feet slightly spread, his back and tail on a line. The sportsmen could hardly believe it a genuine point; but when the bird was flushed and killed, they stood for a moment looking at the sensitive thorough-bred, with that flawless admiration which men reserve for beautiful women and sure-nosed dogs; then they all applauded.
Beresford felt defeated at every point, and in his heart a premonition of failure began to ferment. A few days ago he had met Agnes Ransom at his father's house in Montgomery, and had fallen a prey to her gentle voice and grave, sweet face. Since then she had been constantly in his mind, her influence growing upon him by force of memory, some new grace adding itself to the impression, as each hour recalled a word, a smile or a glance unconsciously treasured by him. Now it all seemed slipping away. It is one of the most natural of mental operations, this swift reaching forward to grasp an evil before it is more than vaguely threatened. We call it foreboding: it may be the last refinement of logic. Beresford kept to himself the rest of the morning, rather gloomily borrowing of the future. Something told him that Agnes Ransom and Reynolds were going to be lovers. His enthusiasm flagged and he shot with less than his usual care. On the contrary, Reynolds seemed to be attended by the god of good luck; every chance seemed to favor him. His self-confidence never once deserted him. He too was borrowing of the future, and what he borrowed was very sweet. Deep in his heart nestled the precious belief that Mrs. Ransom had involuntarily--nay, unconsciously--responded to his interest in her. This gave him nerve and alertness and force. When he would flush a bird, the loud hum of its wings and the bullet-like rapidity of its flight did not disturb his thought or his vision. He threw up his gun with a promptness and self-possession that insured a perfect aim. When he fired the result was a thoroughly fine, clean shot, stopping the game dead in mid-air, so that it fell without a flutter. Yet all the time his dream went on.