“He-l-l-o,” cried his sister as he came running. “What, four of them?”
“Four,” he answered. “By jove, she's a wonder, isn't she. She really bowls me over.”
“Nonsense,” said his sister in a low voice. “She's just a fine girl with a steady hand and a quick eye, and,” she added as Jack turned away from her, “a true heart.”
“A true heart,” Jack muttered to himself, “and given to that confounded bully of a German. If it had been any other man—but we have got one day at least.” Resolutely he brushed away the thoughts that maddened him as he ran to Kathleen's side. Meantime, Tom and Nora had gone circling around toward the left with Sweeper ranging widely before them.
“Let's beat round this bluff,” suggested Kathleen. “They may not have left the trees yet.”
Together they strolled away through the stubble, the girl moving with an easy grace that spoke of balanced physical strength, and with an eagerness that indicated the keen hunter's spirit. The bluff brought no result.
“That bluff promised chickens if ever a bluff did,” said Kathleen in a disappointed voice. “We'll get them further down, and then again in the stubble.”
“Cheer-o,” cried Jack. “The day is fine and we are having a ripping time, at least I am.”
“And I, too,” cried the girl. “I love this, the open fields,—and the sport, too.”
“And good company,” said Jack boldly.