“This is the last time I’ll show him, for a while, Mr. Frayne,” continued Jamie, a grasping note coming into his timid voice. “The cash I’m due to collect from you and Mr. Roke will make enough, with the legacy and what I’ve saved, to start me in business with a truck of my own. Bobby and I are going into partnership. And we’re going to clean up. Bobby is putting seven hundred and fifty dollars and to-day’s cash prizes into the firm. He and I are getting out of the show-end of collie breeding, for a time. The more we see of some of you professionals, the better we like cesspools. If dogs weren’t the grandest animals the good Lord ever put on earth, a few of the folks who exploit them would have killed the dog game long ago. It—. Judge Breese is beckoning for us!” Side by side, the two glorious collies advanced to the judging block. Side by, side, at their handlers’ gestures, they mounted it. And again from the railbirds arose that queer wordless hum. Sire and son, shoulder to shoulder, faced the judge. And, for the first time in his unbroken career of conquest, Lochinvar King looked almost shabby; beside the wondrous young giant he had sired. His every good point—and he had no others—was bettered by Bobby. As a matter of form, Breese went over both dogs with meticulous care; testing coat-texture, spring of ribs, action, soundness of bone, carriage, facial expression, and the myriad other details which go into the judging of a show dog. Long he faced them, crouching low and staring into their deep-set eyes; marking the set and carriage of the tulip ears; comparing point with point; as becomes a man who is about to give victory to an Unknown over a hitherto Invincible. Then with a jerk of his head he summoned the steward with the judging book and ribbons. And, amid a spontaneous rattle of applause, Jamie Mackellar led his splendid dog to the far end of the ring, with one hand; while in the fingers of the other fluttered a strip of gold-lettered dark blue ribbon. Back came both collies for the “Open, Any Colour Class,” and the verdict was repeated; as it was repeated in the supreme “Winners’” Class which followed. “Winners’” Class carried, with its rosette and cash specials, a guerdon of five points toward Bobby’s championship. Then followed the rich harvest of other cash specials in the collie division, including $25 for “Best of Breed,” and for the next three days even fatter gleanings from among the variety classes and unclassified specials. These last awards ranged from five dollars to twenty-five dollars apiece; apart from a valiseful of silver cups and like trophies which are more beautiful than pawnable. On Saturday, Jamie Mackellar and Bobby took the midnight train for Midwestburg; richer by almost nine hundred dollars for their New York sojourn.