March, 1919 
FOREST AND STREAM 
143 
A LESSON IN FAITHFULNESS 
(continued from page 123 ) 
out there in that great pack of floating ice.” 
“Oh, he’ll get in, I guess, sometime,” 
said Ned slowly. “Anyway, I won’t give 
him up. I tell you what, we’ll go up to 
the cabin and make a fire and have some 
coffee. Then if he isn’t back by that time, 
you can light out for home if you like, and 
I’ll wait for him.” 
Jim agreed to the proposal, and was 
soon sitting by a crackling blaze in the 
cabin while Ned heated some coffee he had 
brought, and opened a package of sand- 
wiches. 
“Well,” said Jim at last with a yawn, 
“it’s nearly twelve, and I think I’ll make 
a break for town. You’d better come 
along. If the dog makes shore at all he’ll 
follow on home.” 
“No,” said Ned, “I'll wait. You take 
your pick of the two birds, and I’ll go out 
and rustle up some more fuel.” 
They parted outside the cabin, Jim mak- 
ing for the road while Ned took the path 
to the beach. The moon was well past the 
merWian, the shadows had shifted around 
the bluff, and the outspread marsh had 
taken on a new aspect. The icy wind 
soughing among the reeds, the water lap- 
ping on the beach, and the grating of 
broken ice were the only sounds to break 
the stillness. The low line of the farther 
shore across the bay was a mere melting 
shadow, and occasionally, far out, a deeper, 
moving shadow and twinkling light re- 
vealed some vessel making up to port. The 
compelling beauty of it all held the man 
as he gazed awhile. Then the chilling 
wind brought him to action, and collect- 
ing an armful of driftwood he returned 
to the cabin. 
T HUS the night wore on. He dozed 
a little by the fire, rousing now and 
■.I’.en to throw on another stick, or 
to go to the door and look out, or to stroll 
about outside and bring in more fire- 
wood. lie fell asleep finally, his head on 
his arms folded upon the tabje, and waked 
at last with a start. The lantern was 
flickering out, the fire had died out to a 
few red coals, and there was a chill in the 
air. He threw on some wood and bj' the 
blaze looked at his watch. It was nearly 
four. Then he went to the door and looked 
out. In the west the moon was sinking 
behind the trees that edged the road, which 
looked dim in the paling light and length- 
ening shadows. lie swept the scene with 
a disheartened glance, there was no living 
thing \isible. 
"Not much use waiting longer,” he 
thought as he shut the door and went back 
to the fire. He sat awhile gazing gloomily 
into it. Until now he had not known how 
much he really loved the dog. Perhaps 
Jim was r:ght and he had been swamped 
in the floating ice, worn out by the vain 
effort to effect a landing. The thought 
caught him in the throat and choked him. 
and made him restless. He got up and 
went outside, pacing to and fro with his 
eyes on the road. After all these hours 
that was the only way the dog could have 
come. Reluctantly at last he turned again 
toward the cabin and paused at the thresh- 
old for a last searching gaze. Was that — 
could that be a moving shadow by the bush 
where the path and road met ? 
He took a sudden step forward and 
waited. Yes, surely it moved, turning 
slowly into the path, advancing slowly. 
Yes, it vi'as the dog. 
‘“Tony!” he shouted excitedly. The dog 
quickened his pace a little, hampered a-, 
he was, and as his master reached him 
laid down the great dead bird, and looked 
up for approval. Ned was down on his 
knees, a hand on each shaggy' ice-covered 
ear, shaking the big head slowly as he half- 
sobbed : 
“Why', Tony, old boy', good old boy'.” 
Later, in the cabin, having eagerly de- 
voured the remaining sandwiches, Tony' 
lay before the fire gnawing the ice from 
his shaggy legs and paws, and finally 
stretched himself for slumber, while the i 
ice that entirely covered his thick coat, 
slowly melted in the heat and formed pud- 
dles around him. Underneath that icy 
cover the soft, fine, close hair next the skin 
was warm and dry. 
Ned sat and watched him, pondering 
deeply. Visions rose before him of the 
long hours of battling for life and duty in 
that icy' water, and of weary travel after 
landing. Six miles fully by the road, he 
knew it well, and more by the shore-line. 
A lesson in faithfulness surely! Time 
wore on ; again the fire died down and an 
intense chill crept into the little room. 
The dog was growing restless in his sleep. 
Ned roused him with a word, then raking 
out the fire he made all safe and left the 
cabin. The moon had set, the wind had 
died, and in the weird stillness and gray 
ness of approaching dawn the man and 
dog took their homeward way. 
THE ENGLISH SETTER CLUB . 
OF AMERICA i 
T he English Setter Club of Amer- 
ica announces that the 14th Annual i 
Fields Trials will be held at ?.Iedford, ! 
N. J., starting April 1, 1919. 
As usual, five stakes will be run — the | 
Members Derby and Members All-Age, 
open only to English Setters owned and 
handled by an amateur member of the 
Club; an Open Derby and Open All-Age, 
and a Free for All, open to all Setters, 
Pointers and Griffons. 
The Club has the privilege of running 
their trials over the farm owned by the 
“Friends of the Hunting Dog.” This 
property contains 155 acres, on which 
have been liberated a number of Bob 
White Quail and English Pheasants; in 
addition to these enough new birds will 
be liberated during the running to as- 
sure every dog an ample opportunity to 
show his bird finding ability. It has been 
found that the English Setter Club’s plan 
of running all dogs over the same course 
known to hold birds proves the fairest to 
all competitors. The inaugural trials of 
this Organization were held on the prop- 
erty of Mr. George C. Thomas, Jr., at 
Chestnut Hill, Pa., with only sixteen 
Large Game Preserve 
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Booklet sent on request. For informa- 
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The soldier, camper or huntei — any- 
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WESTMINSTER 
KENNEL CLUB 
Forty-third Annual 
DOG SHOW 
Madison Square Garden, New York 
February 19, 20, 21 and 22, 1919 
All profits of this show will be 
donated to the American Red Cross 
