Job was so far from being ashamed that he barked loudly and Chet bent to cuff him into silence. Then he saw and laughed aloud. “Now ain’t that comical!” he demanded. “Look a-there!” One of the kittens under Chet’s very chair was laboring heavily, trying to drag away a woodcock that seemed twice as large as itself. The other men laughed; Chet rescued the woodcock; the kitten fled and Job beamed with satisfaction and slapped his tail upon the floor. Hayes cried: “By gad, McAusland, that dog has sense! I’d like to buy him.” “You don’t want to buy him. He’s getting old. He won’t be able to hunt much longer.” “Is he for sale?” “Oh, you don’t want him,” Chet said uncomfortably. He hated to refuse any man anything. “I’ll give you three hundred for him,” said Hayes. Now three hundred dollars was as much cash as Chet was like to see in a year’s time, but--Job was Job. He hesitated, not because the offer attracted him but because he did not wish to refuse Hayes. He hesitated, but in the end he said, “You don’t want old Job.” Gunther touched Hayes’ arm, caught his eye, shook his head; and Hayes forbore to push the matter. But he could not refrain from praising Job. “I never saw as good a dog!” he declared. “He is a good dog,” Chet agreed. “He’ll break shot, but that’s his only out. He’s staunch, he’ll mind, he works close in and he’s the best retriever in the County.” “You don’t lose many birds with him,” Hayes agreed. “I can throw a pebble from here right over the barn and he’ll fetch it in,” said Chet. “There’s nothing he won’t bring--if I tell him to.” Gunther laughed. “You’re taking in a good deal of territory, Chet.” “I could tell you some things he’s done that would surprise you,” Chet declared. Hayes chuckled. “Let’s try him out,” he suggested. “All right.” Hayes pointed toward the barn. The great doors were open and a yellow and black cat was coming through the barn toward them. As Hayes pointed her out she sat down in the doorway and began to lick her breast fur down. “Have him fetch the cat,” said Hayes. Chet laughed. He stooped and touched the dog’s head. “Job,” he said, “come here.” Job got up and stood at Chet’s knee, looking up into his master’s face, tail wagging slowly to and fro. Chet waved his hand toward the barn. “Go fetch the cat,” he said. “Go fetch the cat, Job.” The dog looked toward the barn, looked up at Chet again. Chet repeated, “Fetch the cat, Job.” And the dog, a little doubtfully, left them and walked toward the barn. The cat saw Job coming, but was not afraid. They were old friends. All creatures were friends on Chet’s farm. It rose as Job approached and rubbed against his legs. Job stood still, uncertain; he looked back at Chet, looked down at the cat, looked back at Chet. “Fetch, Job!” Chet called.