34 The Life Worth Living 



Sailor's death I had to marry again, and I 

 must say Bob is the handsomest dog I ever 

 knew, and he can't help that he's a pointer." 



"Very well, I'll provide for your children, 

 and see that they are properly educated. If 

 any one tries to insult you in your set, let me 

 know and I'll protect you." 



" It was not that I had forgotten Sailor, sir, 

 but he was dead and I was lonely." 



"Yes, I know; it's an old, old story. You 

 have good precedents." 



Becky knew that I had loved her former 

 mate, Sailor, above all the dogs I had ever 

 known. They were both born in North 

 Carolina, the home of fine field dogs. 



Sailor was a beautiful white and black 

 Llewellyn setter, whose white tail flying 

 above the grass looked like a sail skimming 

 the sea, and from this he got his name. He 

 could find more birds than any four dogs that 

 ever went into the field with him, and do it 

 quicker. He was a fine w T atchdog. When 



