Further Adventures of Lad Read online

  Produced by Dianne Bean. HTML version by Al Haines.

  FURTHER ADVENTURES OF LAD

  by

  ALBERT PAYSON TERHUNE

  FOREWORD

  Sunnybank Lad won a million friends through my book, "LAD: A DOG"; andthrough the Lad-anecdotes in "Buff: A Collie." These books themselveswere in no sense great. But Laddie was great in every sense; and hislife-story could not be marred, past interest, by my clumsy way oftelling it.

  People have written in gratifying numbers asking for more stories aboutLad. More than seventeen hundred visitors have come all the way toSunnybank to see his grave. So I wrote the collection of tales whichare now included in "Further Adventures of Lad." Most of them appeared,in condensed form, in the Ladies' Home Journal.

  Very much, I hope you may like them.

  ALBERT PAYSON TERHUNE "Sunnybank" Pompton Lakes, New Jersey

  FURTHER ADVENTURES OF LAD

  CONTENTS

  I. The Coming Of Lad II. The Fetish III. No Trespassing! IV. Hero-Stuff V. The Stowaway VI. The Tracker VII. The Juggernaut VIII. In Strange Company IX. Old Dog; New Tricks X. The Intruders XI. The Guard

  CHAPTER I. The Coming Of Lad

  In the mile-away village of Hampton, there had been a veritableepidemic of burglaries--ranging from the theft of a brand-new ash-canfrom the steps of the Methodist chapel to the ravaging of Mrs.Blauvelt's whole lineful of clothes, on a washday dusk.

  Up the Valley and down it, from Tuxedo to Ridgewood, there had been ahalf-score robberies of a very different order--depredations wrought,manifestly, by professionals; thieves whose motor cars served thetwentieth century purpose of such historic steeds as Dick Turpin'sBlack Bess and Jack Shepard's Ranter. These thefts were in the line ofjewelry and the like; and were as daringly wrought as were the modestlocal operators' raids on ash-can and laundry.

  It is the easiest thing in the world to stir humankind's ever-tenseburglar-nerves into hysterical jangling. In house after house, formiles of the peaceful North Jersey region, old pistols were cleaned andloaded; window fastenings and doorlocks were inspected and newhiding-places found for portable family treasures.

  Across the lake from the village, and down the Valley from a dozencountry homes, seeped the tide of precautions. And it swirled at lastaround the Place,--a thirty-acre homestead, isolated and sweet, whosegrounds ran from highway to lake; and whose wistaria-clad gray housedrowsed among big oaks midway between road and water; a furlong or moredistant from either.

  The Place's family dog,--a pointer,--had died, rich in years and honor.And the new peril of burglary made it highly needful to choose asuccessor for him.

  The Master talked of buying a whalebone-and-steel-and-snow bullterrier, or a more formidable if more greedy Great Dane. But theMistress wanted a collie. So they compromised by getting the collie.

  He reached the Place in a crampy and smelly crate; preceded by a longenvelope containing an intricate and imposing pedigree. Theburglary-preventing problem seemed solved.

  But when the crate was opened and its occupant stepped gravely forth,on the Place's veranda, the problem was revived.

  All the Master and the Mistress had known about the newcomer,--apartfrom his price and lofty lineage,--was that his breeder had named him"Lad."

  From these meager facts they had somehow built up a picture of a hugeand grimly ferocious animal that should be a terror to all intrudersand that might in time be induced to make friends with the Place'svouched-for occupants. In view of this, they had had a stout kennelmade and to it they had affixed with double staples a chain strongenough to restrain a bull.

  (It may as well be said here that never in all the sixteen years of hisbeautiful life did Lad occupy that or any other kennel nor wear that orany other chain.)

  Even the crate which brought the new dog to the Place failed somehow todestroy the illusion of size and fierceness. But, the moment the cratedoor was opened the delusion was wrecked by Lad himself.

  Out on to the porch he walked. The ramshackle crate behind him had aridiculous air of a chrysalis from which some bright thing haddeparted. For a shaft of sunlight was shimmering athwart the verandafloor. And into the middle of the warm bar of radiance Laddiestepped,--and stood.

  His fluffy puppy-coat of wavy mahogany-and-white caught a millionsunbeams, reflecting them back in tawny-orange glints and in a dazzleas of snow. His forepaws were absurdly small, even for a puppy's. Abovethem the ridging of the stocky leg-bones gave as clear promise ofmighty size and strength as did the amazingly deep little chest andsquare shoulders.

  Here one day would stand a giant among dogs, powerful as a timber-wolf,lithe as a cat, as dangerous to foes as an angry tiger; a dog withoutfear or treachery; a dog of uncanny brain and great lovingly loyalheart and, withal, a dancing sense of fun. A dog with a soul.

  All this, any canine physiologist might have read from the compactframe, the proud head-carriage, the smolder in the deep-set sorrowfuldark eyes. To the casual observer, he was but a beautiful and appealingand wonderfully cuddleable bunch of puppyhood.

  Lad's dark eyes swept the porch, the soft swelling green of the lawn,the flash of fire-blue lake among the trees below. Then, he deigned tolook at the group of humans at one side of him. Gravely, impersonally,he surveyed them; not at all cowed or strange in his new surroundings;courteously inquisitive as to the twist of luck that had set him downhere and as to the people who, presumably, were to be his futurecompanions.

  Perhaps the stout little heart quivered just a bit, if memory went backto his home kennel and to the rowdy throng of brothers and sisters andmost of all, to the soft furry mother against whose side he had nestledevery night since he was born. But if so, Lad was too valiant to showhomesickness by so much as a whimper. And, assuredly, this House ofPeace was infinitely better than the miserable crate wherein he hadspent twenty horrible and jouncing and smelly and noisy hours.

  From one to another of the group strayed the level sorrowful gaze.After the swift inspection, Laddie's eyes rested again on the Mistress.For an instant, he stood, looking at her, in that mildly politecuriosity which held no hint of personal interest.

  Then, all at once, his plumy tail began to wave. Into his sad eyessprang a flicker of warm friendliness. Unbidden--oblivious of everyoneelse he trotted across to where the Mistress sat. He put one tiny whitepaw in her lap; and stood thus, looking up lovingly into her face, tailawag, eyes shining.

  "There's no question whose dog he's going to be," laughed the Master."He's elected you,--by acclamation."

  The Mistress caught up into her arms the halfgrown youngster, pettinghis silken head, running her white fingers through his shining mahoganycoat; making crooning little friendly noises to him.

  Lad forgot he was a dignified and stately pocket-edition of a collie.Under this spell, he changed in a second to an excessively loving andnestling and adoring puppy.

  "Just the same," interposed the Master, "we've been stung. I wanted adog to guard the Place and to be a menace to burglars and all that sortof thing. And they've sent us a Teddy-Bear. I think I'll ship him backand get a grown one. What sort of use is--?"

  "He is going to be all those things," eagerly prophesied the Mistress."And a hundred more. See how he loves to have me pet him! And,look--he's learned, already, to shake hands; and--"

  "Fine!" applauded the Master. "So when it comes our turn to be visitedby this motor-Raffles, the puppy will shake hands with him, andregister love of petting; and the burly marauder will be so touched byLad's friendliness that he'll not only spare our house but lead anupright life ever after. I--"

  "Don't send him back!" she pleaded. "He'll grow up, soon, and--"

  "And if only the courteous burglars will wait
till he's a couple ofyears old," suggested the Master, "he--"

  Set gently on the floor by the Mistress, Laddie had crossed to wherethe Master stood. The man, glancing down, met the puppy's gaze. For aninstant he scowled at the miniature watchdog, so ludicrously differentfrom the ferocious brute he had expected. Then,--for some queerreason,--he stooped and ran his hand roughly over the tawny coat,letting it rest at last on the shapely head that did not flinch orwriggle at his touch.

  "All right," he decreed. "Let him stay. He'll be an amusing pet foryou, anyhow. And his eye has the true thoroughbred expression,--'thelook of eagles.' He may amount to something after all. Let him stay.We'll take a chance on burglars."

  So it was that Lad came to the Place. So it was that he demanded andreceived due welcome which was ever Lad's way. The Master had beenright about the pup's proving "an amusing pet," for the Mistress. Fromthat first hour, Lad was never willingly out of her sight. He hadadopted her. The Master, too,--in only a little lesserwholeheartedness,--he adopted. Toward the rest of the world, from thefirst, he was friendly but more or less indifferent.

  Almost at once, his owners noted an odd trait in the dog's nature. Hewould of course get into any or all of the thousand mischief-scrapeswhich are the heritage of puppies. But, a single reproof was enough tocure him forever of the particular form of mischief which had just beenchidden. He was one of those rare dogs that learn the Law by instinct;and that remember for all time a command or a prohibition once giventhem.

  For example:--On his second day at the Place, he made a furious rush ata neurotic mother hen and her golden convoy of chicks. TheMistress,--luckily for all concerned,--was within call. At her sharpsummons the puppy wheeled, midway in his charge, and trotted back toher. Severely, yet trying not to laugh at his worried aspect, shescolded Lad for his misdeed.

  An hour later, as Lad was scampering ahead of her, past the stables,they rounded a corner and came flush upon the same nerve-wrecked henand her brood. Lad halted in his scamper, with a suddenness that madehim skid. Then, walking as though on eggs, he made an idiotically widecircle about the feathered dam and her silly chicks. Never thereafterdid he assail any of the Place's fowls.

  It was the same, when he sprang up merrily at a line of laundry,flapping in alluring invitation from the drying ground lines. A singleword of rebuke,--and thenceforth the family wash was safe from him.

  And so on with the myriad perplexing "Don'ts" which spatter the careerof a fun-loving collie pup. Versed in the patience-fraying ways of pupsin general, the Mistress and the Master marveled and bragged andpraised.

  All day and every day, life was a delight to the little dog. He hadfriends everywhere, willing to romp with him. He had squirrels tochase, among the oaks. He had the lake to splash ecstatically in: Hehad all he wanted to eat; and he had all the petting his hungry littleheart could crave.

  He was even allowed, with certain restrictions, to come into themysterious house itself. Nor, after one defiant bark at a leopard-skinrug, did he molest anything therein. In the house, too, he found agenuine cave:--a wonderful place to lie and watch the world at large,and to stay cool in and to pretend he was a wolf. The cave was the deepspace beneath the piano in the music room. It seemed to have a peculiarcharm to Lad. To the end of his days, by the way, this cave was hischosen resting place. Nor, in his lifetime, did any other dog set foottherein.

  So much for "all day and every day." But the nights were different.

  Lad hated the nights. In the first place, everybody went to bed andleft him alone. In the second, his hard-hearted owners made him sleepon a fluffy rug in a corner of the veranda instead of in his delectablepiano-cave. Moreover, there was no food at night. And there was nobodyto play with or to go for walks with or to listen to. There was nothingbut gloom and silence and dullness. When a puppy takes fifty cat-napsin the course of the day, he cannot always be expected to sleep thenight through. It is too much to ask. And Lad's waking hours at nightwere times of desolation and of utter boredom. True, he might haveconsoled himself, as does many a lesser pup, with voicing his woes in aseries of melancholy howls. That, in time, would have drawn plenty ofhuman attention to the lonely youngster; even if the attention were notwholly flattering.

  But Lad did not belong to the howling type. When he was unhappy, hewaxed silent. And his sorrowful eyes took on a deeper woe. By the way,if there is anything more sorrowful than the eyes of a collie pup thathas never known sorrow, I have yet to see it.

  No, Lad could not howl. And he could not hunt for squirrels. For theseenemies of his were not content with the unsportsmanliness of climbingout of his reach in the daytime, when he chased them; but they added totheir sins by joining the rest of the world,--except Lad,--in sleepingall night. Even the lake that was so friendly by day was a chilly andforbidding playfellow on the cool North Jersey nights.

  There was nothing for a poor lonely pup to do but stretch out on hisrug and stare in unhappy silence up the driveway, in the impossiblehope that someone might happen along through the darkness to play withhim.

  At such an hour and in such lonesomeness, Lad would gladly have tossedaside all prejudices of caste,--and all his natural dislikes, and wouldhave frolicked in mad joy with the veriest stranger. Anything wasbetter than this drear solitude throughout the million hours before thefirst of the maids should be stirring or the first of the farmhandsreport for work. Yes, night was a disgusting time; and it had not onesingle redeeming trait for the puppy.

  Lad was not even consoled by the knowledge that he was guarding theslumbrous house. He was not guarding it. He had not the very remotestidea what it meant to be a watchdog. In all his five months he hadnever learned that there is unfriendliness in the world; or that thereis anything to guard a house against.

  True, it was instinctive with him to bark when People came down thedrive, or appeared at the gates without warning. But more than once theMaster had bidden him be silent when a rackety Puppy salvo of barkinghad broken in on the arrival of some guest. And Lad was still inperplexed doubt as to whether barking was something forbidden or merelylimited.

  One night,--a solemn, black, breathless August night, when half-visibleheat lightning turned the murk of the western horizon to pulses ofdirty sulphur, Lad awoke from a fitful dream of chasing squirrels whichhad never learned to climb.

  He sat up on his rug, blinking around through the gloom in the halfhope that some of those non-climbing squirrels might still be in sight.As they were not, he sighed unhappily and prepared to lay his classicyoung head back again on the rug for another spell of night-shorteningsleep.

  But, before his head could touch the rug, he reared it and half of hissmall body from the floor and focused his nearsighted eyes on thedriveway. At the same time, his tail began to wag a thumping welcome.

  Now, by day, a dog cannot see so far nor so clearly as can a human. Butby night,--for comparatively short distances,--he can see much betterthan can his master. By day or by darkness, his keen hearing and keenerscent make up for all defects of eyesight.

  And now three of Lad's senses told him he was no longer alone in histedious vigil. Down the drive, moving with amusing slowness andsilence, a man was coming. He was on foot. And he was fairly welldressed. Dogs, the foremost snobs in creation,--are quick to note thedifference between a well-clad and a disreputable stranger.

  Here unquestionably was a visitor:--some such man as so often came tothe Place and paid such flattering attention to the puppy. No longerneed Lad be bored by the solitude of this particular night. Someone wascoming towards the house;--and carrying a small bag under his arm.Someone to make friends with. Lad was very happy.

  Deep in his throat a welcoming bark was born. But he stilled it. Once,when he had barked at the approach of a stranger, the stranger had goneaway. If this stranger were to go away, all the night's fun would gowith him. Also, no later than yesterday, the Master had scolded Lad forbarking at a man who had called. Wherefore the dog held his peace.

  Getting to his feet and stretching him
self, fore and aft, in truecollie fashion, the pup gamboled up the drive to meet the visitor.

  The man was feeling his way through the pitch darkness, gropingcautiously; halting once or twice for a smolder of lightning tosilhouette the house he was nearing. In a wooded lane, a quarter mileaway, his lightless motor car waited.

  Lad trotted up to him, the tiny white feet noiseless in the soft dustof the drive. The man did not see him, but passed so close to the dog'shospitably upthrust nose that he all but touched it.

  Only slightly rebuffed at such chill lack of cordiality, Lad fell inbehind him, tail awag, and followed him to the porch. When the guestshould ring the bell, the Master or one of the maids would come to thedoor. There would be lights and talk; and perhaps Laddie himself mightbe allowed to slip in to his beloved cave.

  But the man did not ring. He did not stop at the door at all. On tiptoehe skirted the veranda to the old-fashioned bay windows at the southside of the living room; windows with catches as old-fashioned and assimple to open as themselves.

  Lad padded along, a pace or so to the rear;--still hopeful of beingpetted or perhaps even romped with. The man gave a faint but promisingsign of intent to romp, by swinging his small and very shiny brown bagto and fro as he walked. Thus ever did the Master swing Lad's preciouscanton flannel doll before throwing it for him to retrieve. Lad made atentative snap at the bag, his tail wagging harder than ever. But hemissed it. And, in another moment the man stopped swinging the bag andtucked it under his arm again as he began to mumble with a bit of steel.

  There was the very faintest of clicks. Then, noiselessly the windowslid upward. A second fumbling sent the wooden inside shutters ajar.The man worked with no uncertainty. Ever since his visit to the Place,a week earlier, behind the aegis of a big and bright and newly forgedtelephone-inspector badge, he had carried in his trained memory thelocation of windows and of obstructing furniture and of the primitivesmall safe in the living room wall, with its pitifully pickablelock;--the safe wherein the Place's few bits of valuable jewelry andother compact treasures reposed at night.

  Lad was tempted to follow the creeping body and the fascinatinglyswinging bag indoors. But his one effort to enter the house,--withmuddy paws,--by way of an open window, had been rebuked by theLawgivers. He had been led to understand that really well-bred littledogs come in by way of the door; and then only on permission.

  So he waited, doubtfully, at the veranda edge; in the hope that his newfriend might reappear or that the Master might perhaps want to show offhis pup to the caller, as so often the Master was wont to do.

  Head cocked to one side, tulip ears alert, Laddie stood listening. Tothe keenest human ears the thief's soft progress across the wide livingroom to the wall-safe would have been all but inaudible. But Lad couldfollow every phase of it; the cautious skirting of each chair; thehesitant pause as a bit of ancient furniture creaked; the halt in frontof the safe; the queer grinding noise, muffled but persevering, at thelock; then the faint creak of the swinging iron door, and the deftgroping of fingers.

  Soon, the man started back toward the pale oblong of gloom which markedthe window's outlines from the surrounding black. Lad's tail began towag again. Apparently, this eccentric person was coming out, after all,to keep him company. Now, the man was kneeling on the window-seat. Now,in gingerly fashion, he reached forward and set the small bag down onthe veranda; before negotiating the climb across the broad seat,--aclimb that might well call for the use of both his hands.

  Lad was entranced. Here was a game he understood. Thus, more than once,had the Mistress tossed out to him his flannel doll, as he had stood inpathetic invitation on the porch, looking in at her as she read ortalked. She had laughed at his wild tossings and other maltreatments ofthe limp doll. He had felt he was scoring a real hit. And this hit hedecided to repeat.

  Snatching up the swollen little satchel, almost before it left theintruder's hand, Lad shook it, joyously, reveling in the faint clinkand jingle of the contents. He backed playfully away; the bag-handleswinging in his jaws. Crouching low, he wagged his tail in ardentinvitation to the stranger to chase him and get back the satchel. Thusdid the Master romp with Lad, when the flannel doll was the prize oftheir game. And Lad loved such races.

  Yes, the stranger was accepting the invitation. The moment he hadcrawled out on the veranda he reached down for the bag. As it was notwhere he thought he had left it, he swung his groping hand forward in ahalf-circle, his fingers sweeping the floor.

  Make that enticing motion, directly in front of a playful collie pup;specially if he has something he doesn't want you to take fromhim;--and watch the effect.

  Instantly, Lad was athrill with the spirit of the game. In onescurrying backward jump, he was off the veranda and on the lawn, tailvibrating, eyes dancing; satchel held tantalizingly towards itswould-be possessor.

  The light sound of his body touching ground reached the man. Reasoningthat the sweep of his own arm had somehow knocked the bag off theporch, he ventured off the edge of the veranda and flashed a swathedray of his pocket light along the ground in search of it.

  The flashlight's lens was cleverly muffled; in a way to give forth buta single subdued finger of illumination. That one brief glimmer wasenough to show the thief a right impossible sight. The glow struckanswering lights from the polished sides of the brown bag. The bag washanging in air, some six inches above the grass and perhaps five feetaway from him. Then he saw it swig frivolously to one side and vanishin the night.

  The astonished man had seen more. Feeble was the flashlight's shroudedray, too feeble to outline against the night the small dark body behindthe shining brown bag. But that same ray caught and reflected back tothe incredulous beholder two splashes of pale fire;--glints from a pairof deep-set collie-eyes.

  As the bag disappeared, the eerie fire-points were gone. The thief allbut dropped his flashlight. He gaped in nervous dread; and soughtvainly to account for the witch-work he had witnessed. He had plenty ofnerve. He had plenty of experience along his chosen line of endeavor.But, while a crook may control his nerve, he cannot make it phlegmaticor steady. Always, he must be conscious of holding it in check, as aclever driver checks and steadies and keeps in subjection a plunginghorse. Let the vigilance slacken, and there is a runaway.

  Now this particular marauder had long ago keyed his nerve to the chanceof interruption from some gun-brandishing householder; and to thepossible pursuit of police; and to the need of fighting or of fleeing.But all his preparations had not taken into account this newestemergency. He had not steeled himself to watch unmoved the gliding awayof a treasure-satchel, apparently moving of its own will; nor theshimmer of two greenish sparks in the air just above it. And, for aninstant, the man had to battle against a craven desire to bolt.

  Lad, meanwhile, was having a beautiful time. Sincerely, he appreciatedthe playful grab his nocturnal friend had made in his generaldirection. Lad had countered this, by frisking away for another five orsix feet, and then wheeling about to face once more his playfellow andto await the next move in the blithe gambol. The pup could seetolerably well, in the darkness quite well enough to play the game hisguest had devised. And of course, he had no way of knowing that the mancould not see equally well.

  Shaking off his momentary terror, the thief once more pressed thebutton of his flashlight; swinging the torch in a swift semicircle andextinguishing it at once; lest the dim glow be seen by any wakefulmember of the family.

  That one quick sweep revealed to his gaze the shiny brown bag ahalf-dozen feet ahead of him, still swinging several inches aboveground. He flung himself forward at it; refusing to believe he also sawthat queer double glow of pale light just above. He dived for thesatchel with the speed and the accuracy of a football tackle. And thatwas all the good it did him.

  Perhaps there is something in nature more agile and dismayingly elusivethan a romping young collie. But that "something" is not a mortal man.As the thief sprang, Lad sprang in unison with him; darting to the leftand a yard or so
backward. He came to an expectant standstill oncemore; his tail wildly vibrating, his entire furry body tingling withthe glad excitement of the game. This sportive visitor of his was averitable godsend. If only he could be coaxed into coming to play withhim every night--!

  But presently he noted that the other seemed to have wearied of thegame. After plunging through the air and landing on all fours with hisgrasping hands closing on nothingness, the man had remained thus, as ifdazed, for a second or so. Then he had felt the ground all about him.Then, bewildered, he had scrambled to his feet. Now he was standing,moveless, his lips working.

  Yes, he seemed to be tired of the lovely game;--and just when Laddiewas beginning to enter into the full spirit of it. Once in a while, theMistress or the Master stopped playing, during the romps with theflannel doll. And Laddie had long since hit on a trick for revivingtheir interest. He employed this ruse now.

  As the man stood, puzzled and scared, something brushed verylightly,-even coquettishly,--against his knuckles. He started innervous fright. An instant later, the same thing brushed his knucklesagain, this time more insistently. The man, in a spurt of fear-drivenrage, grabbed at the invisible object. His fingers slipped along thesmooth sides of the bewitched bag that Lad was shoving invitingly athim.

  Brief as was the contact, it was long enough for the thief's sensitivefinger tips to recognize what they touched. And both hands were broughtsuddenly into play, in a mad snatch for the prize. The ten avid fingersmissed the bag; and came together with clawing force. But, before theymet, the finger tips of the left hand telegraphed to the man's brainthat they had had momentary light experience with something hairy andwarm,--something that had slipped, eel-like, past them into thenight;--something that most assuredly was no satchel, but ALIVE!

  The man's throat contracted, in gagging fright. And, as before, fearscourged him to feverish rage.

  Recklessly he pressed the flashlight's button; and swung the muffledbar of light in every direction. In his other hand he leveled thepistol he had drawn. This time the shaded ray revealed to him not onlyhis bag, but,--vaguely,--the Thing that held it.

  He could not make out what manner of creature it was which gripped thesatchel's handle and whose eyes pulsed back greenish flares into thetorch's dim glow. But it was an animal of some kind;--distorted andformless in the wavering finger of blunted light; but still an animal.Not a ghost.

  And fear departed. The intruder feared nothing mortal. The mystery inpart explained, he did not bother to puzzle out the remainder of it.Impossible as it seemed, his bag was carried by some living thing. Allthat remained for him was to capture the thing, and recover his bag.The weak light still turned on, he gave chase.

  Lad's spirits arose with a bound. His ruse had succeeded. He hadreawakened in this easily-discouraged chum a new interest in the game.And he gamboled across the lawn, fairly wriggling with delight. He didnot wish to make his friend lose interest again. So instead of dashingoff at full speed, he frisked daintily, just out of reach of theclawing hand.

  And in this pleasant fashion the two playfellows covered a hundredyards of ground. More than once, the man came within an inch of hisquarry. But always, by the most imperceptible spurt of speed, Laddiearranged to keep himself and his dear satchel from capture.

  Then, in no time at all, the game ended; and with it ended Lad's babyfaith in the friendliness and trustworthiness of all human nature.

  Realizing that the sound of his own stumblingly running feet and theintermittent flashes of his torch might well awaken some light sleeperin the house, the thief resolved on a daring move. This creature infront of him,--dog or bear or goat, or whatever it was,--wasuncatchable. But by sending a bullet through it, he could bring theanimal to a sudden and permanent stop.

  Then, snatching up his bag and running at top speed, he himself couldeasily win clear of the Place before anyone of the household shouldappear. And his car would be a mile away before the neighborhood couldbe aroused. Fury at the weird beast and the wrenching strain on his ownnerves lent eagerness to his acceptance of the idea.

  He reached back again for his pistol, whipped it out, and, coming to astandstill, aimed at the pup. Lad, waiting only to bound over anobstruction in his path, came to a corresponding pause, not ten feetahead of his playmate.

  It was an easy shot. Yet the bullet went several inches above theobligingly waiting dog's back. Nine men out of ten, shooting bymoonlight or by flashlight, aim too high. The thief had heard this oldmarksman-maxim fifty times. But, like most hearers of maxims, he hadforgotten it at the one time in his speckled career when it might havebeen of any use to him.

  He had fired. He had missed. In another second, every sleeper in thehouse and in the gate-lodge would be out of bed. His night's work was ablank, unless--

  With a bull rush he hurled himself forward at the interestedly waitingLad. And, as he sprang, he fired again. Then several things happened.

  Everyone, except movie actors and newly-appointed policemen, knows thata man on foot cannot shoot straight, unless he is standing stock still.Yet, as luck would have it, this second shot found a mark where thefirst and better aimed bullet had gone wild.

  Lad had leaped the narrow and deep ditch left along the lawn-edge byworkers who were putting in a new water-main for the Place. On the farside of this obstacle he had stopped, and had waited for his friend tofollow. But the friend had not followed. Instead, he had been somehowresponsible for a spurt of red flame and for a most thrilling racket.Lad was more impressed than ever by the man's wondrous possibilities asa midnight entertainer. He waited, gayly expectant, for more. He got it.

  There was a second rackety explosion and a second puff of lightningfrom the man's out-flung hand. But, this time, something like a red-hotwhip-lash smote Lad with horribly agonizing force athwart the right hip.

  The man had done this,--the man whom Laddie had thought so friendly andplayful!

  He had not done it by accident. For his hand had been out-flungdirectly at the pup, just as once had been the arm of the kennelman,back at Lad's birthplace, in beating a disobedient mongrel. It was theonly beating Lad had ever seen. And it had stuck, shudderingly, in hisuncannily sensitive memory. Yet now, he himself had just had a likeexperience.

  In an instant, the pup's trustful friendliness was gone. The man hadcome on the Place, at dead of night, and had struck him. That must bepaid for! Never would the pup forget,--his agonizing lesson that nightintruders are not to be trusted or even to be tolerated. Within asingle second, he had graduated from a little friend of all the world,into a vigilant watchdog.

  With a snarl, he dropped the bag and whizzed forward at his assailant.Needle-sharp milk-teeth bared, head low, ruff abristle, friendly softeyes as ferocious as a wolf's, he charged.

  There had been scarce a breathing-space between the second report ofthe pistol and the collie's counterattack. But there had been timeenough for the onward-plunging thief to step into the narrow lip of thewater-pipe ditch. The momentum of his own rush hurled the upper part ofhis body forward. But his left leg, caught between the ditch-sides, didnot keep pace with the rest of him. There was a hideous snapping sound,a screech of mortal anguish; and the man crashed to earth, in a deadfaint of pain and shock,--his broken left leg still thrust at animpossible angle in the ditch.

  Lad checked himself midway in his own fierce charge. Teeth bare, throatagrowl, he hesitated. It had seemed to him right and natural to assailthe man who had struck him so painfully. But now this same man waslying still and helpless under him. And the sporting instincts of ahundred generations of thoroughbreds cried out to him not to mangle thedefenseless.

  Wherefore, he stood, irresolute; alert for sign of movement on the partof his foe. But there was no such sign. And the light bullet-graze onhis hip was hurting like the very mischief.

  Moreover, every window in the house beyond was blossoming forth intolights. There were sounds,--reassuring human sounds. And doors wereopening. His deities were coming forth.

  All at once, L
addie stopped being a vengeful beast of prey; andremembered that he was a very small and very much hurt and very lonelyand worried puppy. He craved the Mistress's dear touch on his wound,and a word of crooning comfort from her soft voice. This yearning wasmingled with a doubt lest perhaps he had been transgressing the Place'sLaw, in some new way; and lest he might have let himself in for ascolding. The Law was still so queer and so illogical!

  Lad started toward the house. Then, pausing, he picked up the bag whichhad been so exhilarating a plaything for him this past few minutes andwhich he had forgotten in his pain.

  It was Lad's collie way to pick up offerings (ranging from slippers tovery dead fish) and to carry them to the Mistress. Sometimes he waspetted for this. Sometimes the offering was lifted gingerly betweenaloof fingers and tossed back into the lake. But, nobody could wellrefuse so jingly and pretty a gift as this satchel.

  The Master, sketchily attired, came running down the lawn, flashlightin hand. Past him, unnoticed, as he sped toward the ditch, a collie puplimped;--a very unhappy and comfort-seeking puppy who carried in hismouth a blood-spattered brown bag.

  "It doesn't make sense to me!" complained the Master, next day, as hetold the story for the dozenth time, to a new group of callers. "Iheard the shots and I went out to investigate. There he was lying, halfin and half out of the ditch. The fellow was unconscious. He didn't gethis senses back till after the police came. Then he told some babblingyarn about a creature that had stolen his bag of loot and that hadlured him to the ditch. He was all unnerved and upset, and almost outof his head with pain. So the police had little enough trouble in'sweating' him. He told everything he knew. And there's a wholesaleround-up of the motor-robbery bunch going on this afternoon as a resultof it. But what I can't understand--"

  "It's as clear as day," insisted the Mistress, stroking a silken headthat pressed lovingly against her knee. "As clear as day. I wasstanding in the doorway here when Laddie came pattering up to me andlaid a little satchel at my feet. I opened it, and well, it hadeverything of value in it that had been in the safe over there. Thatand the thief's story make it perfectly plain. Laddie caught the man ashe was climbing out of that window. He got the bag away from him; andthe man chased him, firing as he went. And he stumbled into the ditchand--"

  "Nonsense!" laughed the Master. "I'll grant all you say about Lad'sbeing the most marvelous puppy on earth. And I'll even believe all themiracles of his cleverness. But when it comes to taking a bag ofjewelry from a burglar and then enticing him to a ditch and then comingback here to you with the bag--"

  "Then how do you account--?"

  "I don't. None of it makes sense to me. As I just said. But, whateverhappened, it's turned Laddie into a real watchdog. Did you notice howhe went for the police when they started down the drive, last night?We've got a watchdog at last."

  "We've got more than a watchdog," amended the Mistress. "An ordinarywatchdog would just scare away thieves or bite them. Lad captured thethief and then brought the stolen jewelry back to us. No other dogcould have done that."

  Lad, enraptured by the note of praise in the Mistress's soft voice,looked adoringly up into the face that smiled so proudly down at him.Then, catching the sound of a step on the drive, he dashed out to barkin murderous fashion at a wholly harmless delivery boy whom he had seenevery day for weeks.

  A watchdog can't afford to relax vigilance, for a singleinstant,--especially at the responsible age of five months.