One day after the leaves had turned red and brown and the mornings grown chilly and pungent, a crowd of people, strangers to Comet, came to the big house at Oak Hill. With them were automobiles, trunks, horses. All this was tremendously exciting, and with noses pressed against the chicken wire of their yard Comet and his brothers and sisters watched these goings-on.
Then out of the house with Thompson came a big man in tweeds, and the two walked straight to the curious young dogs who were watching them with shining eyes and wagging tails.
"Well, Thompson," said the big man, "which is the future champion you've been writing me about?"
"Pick him out yourself, sir," said Thompson.
They talked a long time, planning the future of Comet. His yard training was over—Thompson was only yard trainer—and he must be sent to a man experienced in training and handling for field trials. His grade-school days were past. He must go off to college. He must be prepared for the thrilling life of the field-trial dog.
"Larsen's the man to bring him out," said the big man in tweeds, who was George Devant himself. "I saw his dogs work in the Canadian Derbies. I like his methods."
Thompson spoke hesitatingly, as if he disliked to bring the matter up.
"Mr. Devant—you remember, sir, a long time ago Larsen sued us for old Ben, saying the dog was his by rights?"
"Yes, Thompson, I remember—now you speak of it."