Part 24 (2/2)

After which, since he was not of the sort to clamor noisily for what lurked beyond his reach, the dog yawned and lay down to keep guard on his arboreal prisoner. For half an hour he lay thus, varying his vigil once or twice by sniffing thoughtfully at a ragged sc.r.a.p of trouser cloth between his little white forepaws. He sniffed the thing as though trying to commit its scent to memory.

The man did not seek help by shouting. Instead, he seemed oddly willing that no other human should intrude on his sorry plight. A single loud yell would have brought aid from the stables or from the house or even from the lodge up by the gate. Yet, though the man must have guessed this, he did not yell. Instead, he cursed whisperingly at intervals and snarled at his captor.

At last, his nerve going, the prisoner drew out a jackknife, opened a blade at each end of it and hurled the ugly missile with all his force at the dog. As the man had s.h.i.+fted his position to get at the knife, Lad had risen expectantly to his feet with some hope that his captive might be going to descend.

It was lucky for Lad that he was standing when the knife was thrown for the aim was not bad, and a dog lying down cannot easily dodge. A dog standing on all fours is different, especially if he is a collie.

Lad sprang to one side instinctively as the thrower's arm went back. The knife whizzed, harmless, into the sumac patch. Lad's teeth bared themselves in something that looked like a smile and was not. Then he lay down again on guard.

A minute later he was up with a jump. From the direction of the house came a shrill whistle followed by a shout of ”Lad! _La-ad!_” It was the Master calling him. The summons could not be ignored. Usually it was obeyed with eager gladness, but now--Lad looked worriedly up into the tree. Then, coming to a decision, he galloped away at top speed.

In ten seconds he was at the veranda where the Master stood talking with a newly arrived guest. Before the Master could speak to the dog, Lad rushed up to him, whimpering in stark appeal, then ran a few steps toward the stables, paused, looked back and whimpered again.

”What's the matter with him?” loudly demanded the guest--an obese and elderly man, right sportily attired. ”What ails the silly dog?”

”He's found something,” said the Master. ”Something he wants me to come and see--and he wants me to come in a hurry.”

”How do you know?” asked the guest.

”Because I know his language as well as he knows mine,” retorted the Master.

He set off in the wake of the excited dog. The guest followed in more leisurely fas.h.i.+on complaining:

”Of all the idiocy! To let a measly dog drag you out of the shade on a red-hot day like this just to look at some dead chipmunk he's found!”

”Perhaps,” stiffly agreed the Master, not slackening his pace. ”But if Lad behaves like that, unless it's pretty well worth while, he's changed a lot in the past hour. A man can do worse sometimes than follow a tip his dog gives him.”

”Have it your own way,” grinned the guest. ”Perhaps he may lead us to a treasure cave or to a damsel in distress. I'm with you.”

”Guy me if it amuses you,” said the Master.

”It does,” his guest informed him. ”It amuses me to see any grown man think so much of a dog as you people think of Lad. It's maudlin.”

”My house is the only one within a mile on this side of the lake that has never been robbed,” was the Master's reply. ”My stable is the only one in the same radius that hasn't been rifled by harness-and-tire thieves. Thieves who seem to do their work in broad daylight, too, when the stables won't be locked. I have Lad to thank for all that.

He----”

The dog had darted far ahead. Now he was standing beneath a low-forked hickory tree staring up into it.

”He's treed a cat!” guffawed the guest, his laugh as irritating as a kick. ”Extra! Come out and get a nice sunstroke, folks! Come and see the cat Lad has treed!”

The Master did not answer. There was no cat in the tree. There was nothing visible in the tree. Lad's aspect shrank from hope to depression. He looked apologetically at the Master. Then he began to sniff once more at a sc.r.a.p of cloth on the ground.

The Master picked up the cloth and presently walked over to the tree. From a jut of bark dangled a shred of the same cloth. The Master's hand went to Lad's head in approving caress.

”It was not a cat,” he said. ”It was a man. See the rags of----”

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