Lad: A Dog

by Albert Payson Terhune

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  LAD: A DOG

  (_From a photograph by Lacy Van Wagenen_)]

  LAD: A DOG

  BY ALBERT PAYSON TERHUNE

  NEW YORK E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY 681 FIFTH AVENUE

  Copyright 1919 By E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY

  _All Rights Reserved_

  _First Printing, April, 1919_ _Second Printing, June, 1919_ _Third Printing, July, 1919_ _Fourth Printing, August, 1919_ _Fifth Printing, August, 1919_ _Sixth Printing, August, 1919_ _Seventh Printing, August, 1919_ _Eighth Printing, August, 1919_ _Ninth Printing, August, 1919_ _Tenth Printing, August, 1919_ _Eleventh Printing, December, 1919_ _Twelfth Printing, December, 1919_ _Thirteenth Printing, December, 1919_ _Fourteenth Printing, December, 1919_ _Fifteenth Printing, December, 1919_ _Sixteenth Printing, December, 1919_ _Seventeenth Printing, December, 1919_ _Eighteenth Printing, August, 1921_ _Nineteenth Printing, March, 1922_ _Twentieth Printing, August, 1922_ _Twenty-first Printing, Sept., 1922_ _Twenty-second Pr'ting, Feb., 1923_

  _Printed in the United States of America_

  MY BOOK IS DEDICATED TO THE MEMORY OF

  Lad

  THOROUGHBRED IN BODY AND SOUL

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER PAGE

  I. HIS MATE 1

  II. "QUIET!" 26

  III. A MIRACLE OF TWO 49

  IV. HIS LITTLE SON 74

  V. FOR A BIT OF RIBBON 97

  VI. LOST! 126

  VII. THE THROWBACK 156

  VIII. THE GOLD HAT 180

  IX. SPEAKING OF UTILITY 218

  X. THE KILLER 251

  XI. WOLF 297

  XII. IN THE DAY OF BATTLE 321

  AFTERWORD 347

  LAD: A DOG

  CHAPTER I

  HIS MATE

  Lady was as much a part of Lad's everyday happiness as the sunshineitself. She seemed to him quite as perfect, and as gloriouslyindispensable. He could no more have imagined a Ladyless life than asunless life. It had never occurred to him to suspect that Lady couldbe any less devoted than he--until Knave came to The Place.

  Lad was an eighty-pound collie, thoroughbred in spirit as well as inblood. He had the benign dignity that was a heritage from endlessgenerations of high-strain ancestors. He had, too, the gay courage ofa d'Artagnan, and an uncanny wisdom. Also--who could doubt it, aftera look into his mournful brown eyes--he had a Soul.

  His shaggy coat, set off by the snowy ruff and chest, was likeorange-flecked mahogany. His absurdly tiny forepaws--in which he tookinordinate pride--were silver white.

  Three years earlier, when Lad was in his first prime (before themighty chest and shoulders had filled out and the tawny coat had waxedso shaggy), Lady had been brought to The Place. She had been broughtin the Master's overcoat pocket, rolled up into a fuzzy gold-gray ballof softness no bigger than a half-grown kitten.

  The Master had fished the month-old puppy out of the cavern of hispocket and set her down, asprawl and shivering and squealing, on theveranda floor. Lad had walked cautiously across the veranda, sniffedinquiry at the blinking pigmy who gallantly essayed to growl defianceup at the huge welcomer--and from that first moment he had taken herunder his protection.

  First it had been the natural impulse of the thoroughbred--brute orhuman--to guard the helpless. Then, as the shapeless yellow baby grewinto a slenderly graceful collie, his guardianship changed to starkadoration. He was Lady's life slave.

  And she bullied him unmercifully--bossed the gentle giant in ashameful manner, crowding him from the warmest spot by the fire,brazenly yet daintily snatching from between his jaws the choicestbone of their joint dinner, hectoring her dignified victim intolawn-romps in hot weather when he would far rather have drowsed underthe lakeside trees.

  Her vagaries, her teasing, her occasional little flurries of temper,were borne by Lad not meekly, but joyously. All she did was, in hiseyes, perfect. And Lady graciously allowed herself to be idolized,for she was marvelously human in some ways. Lad, a thoroughbreddescended from a hundred generations of thoroughbreds, was less humanand more disinterested.

  Life at The Place was wondrous pleasant for both the dogs. There werethick woods to roam in, side by side; there were squirrels to chaseand rabbits to trail. (Yes, and if the squirrels had played fair andhad not resorted to unsportsmanly tactics by climbing trees when closepressed, there would doubtless have been squirrels to catch as well asto chase. As for the rabbits, they were easier to overtake. And Ladygot the lion's share of all such morsels.)

  There was the ice-cool lake to plunge into for a swim or a wallow,after a run in the dust and July heat. There was a deliciouslycomfortable old rug in front of the living-room's open fire whereon tolie, shoulder to shoulder, on the nights when the wind screamedthrough bare trees and the snow scratched hungrily at the panes.

  Best of all, to them both, there were the Master and the Mistress;especially the Mistress.

  Any man with money to make the purchase may become a dog's _owner_.But no man--spend he ever so much coin and food and tact in theeffort--may become a dog's _Master_ without the consent of thedog. Do you get the difference? And he whom a dog once unreservedlyaccepts as Master is forever that dog's God.

  To both Lad and Lady, from the first, the man who bought them wasnot the mere owner but the absolute Master. To them he was theunquestioned lord of life and death, the hearer and answerer, theEternal Law; his the voice that must be obeyed, whatever the command.

  From earliest puppyhood, both Lad and Lady had been brought up withinthe Law. As far back as they could remember, they had known and obeyedThe Place's simple code.

  For example: All animals of the woods might lawfully be chased; butthe Mistress' prize chickens and the other little folk of The Placemust be ignored no matter how hungry or how playful a collie mightchance to be. A human, walking openly or riding down the drive intoThe Place by daylight, must not be barked at except by way of friendlyannouncement. But anyone entering the grounds from other ingress thanthe drive, or anyone walking furtively or with a tramp slouch, must beattacked at sight.

  Also, the interior of the house was sacrosanct. It was a place forperfect behavior. No rug must be scratched, nothing gnawed or playedwith. In fact, Lady's one whipping had followed a puppy-frolic effortof hers to "worry" the huge stuffed bald eagle that stood on apapier-mache stump in the Master's study, just off the big living-roomwhere the fireplace was.

  That eagle, shot by himself as it raided the flock of prize chickens,was the delight of the Master's heart. And at Lady's attempt on it, hehad taught her a lesson that made her cringe for weeks thereafter atbare sight of the dog-whip. To this day, she would never walk past theeagle without making the widest possible detour around it.

  But that punishment had been suffered while she was still in theidiotic days of puppyhood. After she was grown, Lady would no
morehave thought of tampering with the eagle or with anything else in thehouse than it would occur to a human to stand on his head in church.

  Then, early one spring, came Knave--a showy, magnificent collie;red-gold of coat save for a black "saddle," and with alert topaz eyes.

  Knave did not belong to the Master, but to a man who, going to Europefor a month, asked him to care for the dog in his absence. The Master,glad to have so beautiful an ornament to The Place, had willinglyconsented. He was rewarded when, on the train from town, an admiringcrowd of commuters flocked to the baggage-car to stare at thesplendid-looking collie.

  The only dissenting note in the praise-chorus was the grouchy oldbaggage-man's.

  "Maybe he's a thoroughbred, like you say," drawled the old fellow tothe Master, "but I never yet saw a yellow-eyed, prick-eared dog I'dgive hell-room to."

  Knave showed his scorn for such silly criticism by a cavernous yawn.

  "Thoroughbred?" grunted the baggage-man. "With them streaks ofpinkish-yeller on the roof of his mouth? Ever see a thoroughbred thatdidn't have a black mouth-roof?"

  But the old man's slighting words were ignored with disdain by thecrowd of volunteer dog-experts in the baggage-car. In time the Masteralighted at his station, with Knave straining joyously at theleash. As the Master reached The Place and turned into the drive, bothLad and Lady, at sound of his far-off footsteps, came tearing aroundthe side of the house to greet him.

  On simultaneous sight and scent of the strange dog frisking along athis side, the two collies paused in their madly joyous onrush. Up wenttheir ruffs. Down went their heads.

  Lady flashed forward to do battle with the stranger who was monopolizingso much of the Master's attention. Knave, not at all averse to battle(especially with a smaller dog), braced himself and then movedforward, stiff-legged, fangs bare.

  But of a sudden his head went up; his stiff-poised brush broke intoswift wagging; his lips curled down. He had recognized that hisprospective foe was not of his own sex. (And nowhere, except amonghumans, does a full-grown male ill-treat or even defend himselfagainst the female of his species.)

  Lady, noting the stranger's sudden friendliness, paused irresolute inher charge. And at that instant Lad darted past her. Full at Knave'sthroat he launched himself.

  The Master rasped out:

  "Down, Lad! _Down!_"

  Almost in midair the collie arrested his onset--coming to earthbristling, furious and yet with no thought but to obey. Knave, seeinghis foe was not going to fight, turned once more toward Lady.

  "Lad," ordered the Master, pointing toward Knave and speaking withquiet intentness, "let him alone. Understand? Let him _alone_."

  And Lad understood--even as years of training and centuries ofancestry had taught him to understand every spoken wish of theMaster's. He must give up his impulse to make war on this intruderwhom at sight he hated. It was the Law; and from the Law there was noappeal.

  With yearningly helpless rage he looked on while the newcomer wasinstalled on The Place. With a wondering sorrow he found himselfforced to share the Master's and Mistress' caresses with thisinterloper. With growing pain he submitted to Knave's gay attentionsto Lady, and to Lady's evident relish of the guest's companionship.Gone were the peaceful old days of utter contentment.

  Lady had always regarded Lad as her own special property--to tease andto boss and to despoil of choice food-bits. But her attitude towardKnave was far different. She coquetted, human-fashion, with thegold-and-black dog--at one moment affecting to scorn him, at anothermeeting his advances with a delighted friendliness.

  She never presumed to boss him as she had always bossed Lad. Hefascinated her. Without seeming to follow him about, she was foreverat his heels. Lad, cut to the heart at her sudden indifference towardhis loyal self, tried in every way his simple soul could devise to winback her interest. He essayed clumsily to romp with her as thelithely graceful Knave romped, to drive rabbits for her on theirwoodland rambles, to thrust himself, in a dozen gentle ways, upon herattention.

  But it was no use. Lady scarcely noticed him. When his overtures offriendship chanced to annoy her, she rewarded them with a snap or withan impatient growl. And ever she turned to the all-conquering Knave ina keenness of attraction that was all but hypnotic.

  As his divinity's total loss of interest in himself grew too apparentto be doubted, Lad's big heart broke. Being only a dog and aGrail-knight in thought, he did not realize that Knave's newness andhis difference from anything she had known, formed a large part ofLady's desire for the visitor's favor; nor did he understand that suchinterest must wane when the novelty should wear off.

  All Lad knew was that he loved her, and that for the sake of a flashystranger she was snubbing him.

  As the Law forbade him to avenge himself in true dog-fashion byfighting for his Lady's love, Lad sadly withdrew from the unequalcontest, too proud to compete for a fickle sweetheart. No longer didhe try to join in the others' lawn-romps, but lay at a distance, hissplendid head between his snowy little forepaws, his brown eyes sickwith sorrow, watching their gambols.

  Nor did he thrust his undesired presence on them during their woodlandrambles. He took to moping, solitary, infinitely miserable. Perhapsthere is on earth something unhappier than a bitterly aggrieveddog. But no one has ever discovered that elusive something.

  Knave from the first had shown and felt for Lad a scornful indifference.Not understanding the Law, he had set down the older collie'srefusal to fight as a sign of exemplary, if timorous prudence, and helooked down upon him accordingly. One day Knave came home from themorning run through the forest without Lady. Neither the Master'scalls nor the ear-ripping blasts of his dog-whistle could bring herback to The Place. Whereat Lad arose heavily from his favoriteresting-place under the living-room piano and cantered off to thewoods. Nor did he return.

  Several hours later the Master went to the woods to investigate,followed by the rollicking Knave. At the forest edge the Mastershouted. A far-off bark from Lad answered. And the Master made his waythrough shoulder-deep underbrush in the direction of the sound.

  In a clearing he found Lady, her left forepaw caught in the steel jawsof a fox-trap. Lad was standing protectingly above her, stooping nowand then to lick her cruelly pinched foot or to whine consolation toher; then snarling in fierce hate at a score of crows that flappedhopefully in the tree-tops above the victim.

  The Master set Lady free, and Knave frisked forward right joyously togreet his released inamorata. But Lady was in no condition toplay--then nor for many a day thereafter. Her forefoot was solacerated and swollen that she was fain to hobble awkwardly on threelegs for the next fortnight.

  It was on one pantingly hot August morning, a little later, that Ladylimped into the house in search of a cool spot where she might lie andlick her throbbing forefoot. Lad was lying, as usual, under the pianoin the living-room. His tail thumped shy welcome on the hardwood flooras she passed, but she would not stay or so much as notice him.

  On she limped, into the Master's study, where an open window sent afaint breeze through the house. Giving the stuffed eagle a wide berth,Lady hobbled to the window and made as though to lie down just beneathit. As she did so, two things happened: she leaned too much weight onthe sore foot, and the pressure wrung from her an involuntary yelp ofpain; at the same moment a crosscurrent of air from the other side ofthe house swept through the living-room and blew shut the door of theadjoining study. Lady was a prisoner.

  Ordinarily this would have caused her no ill-ease, for the open windowwas only thirty inches above the floor, and the drop to the verandaoutside was a bare three feet. It would have been the simplest matterin the world for her to jump out, had she wearied of her chancecaptivity.

  But to undertake the jump with the prospect of landing her full weightand impetus on a forepaw that was horribly sensitive to the lightesttouch--this was an exploit beyond the sufferer's will-power. So Ladyresigned herself to imprisonment. She curled herself up on the flooras far as possible from the
eagle, moaned softly and lay still.

  At sound of her first yelp, Lad had run forward, whining eagersympathy. But the closed door blocked his way. He crouched, wretchedand anxious, before it, helpless to go to his loved one's assistance.

  Knave, too, loping back from a solitary prowl of the woods, seekingLady, heard the yelp. His prick-ears located the sound at once. Alongthe veranda he trotted, to the open study window. With a bound he hadcleared the sill and alighted inside the room.

  It chanced to be his first visit to the study. The door was usuallykept shut, that drafts might not blow the Master's desk-papersabout. And Knave felt, at best, little interest in exploring theinterior of houses. He was an outdoor dog, by choice.

  He advanced now toward Lady, his tail a-wag, his head on one side,with his most irresistible air. Then, as he came forward into theroom, he saw the eagle. He halted in wonder at sight of the enormouswhite-crested bird with its six-foot sweep of pinion. It was a whollynovel spectacle to Knave; and he greeted it with a gruff bark, half offear, half of bravado. Quickly, however, his sense of smell told himthis wide-winged apparition was no living thing. And ashamed of hismomentary cowardice, he went over to investigate it.

  As he went, Knave cast over his shoulder a look of invitation to Ladyto join him in his inspection. She understood the invitation, butmemory of that puppyhood beating made her recoil from acceptingit. Knave saw her shrink back, and he realized with a thrill that shewas actually afraid of this lifeless thing which could harm noone. With due pride in showing off his own heroism before her, andwith the scamp-dog's innate craving to destroy, he sprang growlingupon the eagle.

  Down tumbled the papier-mache stump. Down crashed the huge stuffedbird with it; Knave's white teeth buried deep in the soft feathers ofits breast.

  Lady, horror-struck at this sacrilege, whimpered in terror. But herplaint served only to increase Knave's zest for destruction.

  He hurled the bird to the floor, pinned it down with his feet and atone jerk tore the right wing from the body. Coughing out the mouthfulof dusty pinions, he dug his teeth into the eagle's throat. Againbracing himself with his forelegs on the carcass, he gave a sharptug. Head and neck came away in his mouth. And then before he coulddrop the mouthful and return to the work of demolition, he heard theMaster's step.

  All at once, now, Knave proved he was less ignorant of the Law--or, atleast, of its penalties--than might have been supposed from his act ofvandalism. In sudden panic he bolted for the window, the silvery headof the eagle still, unheeded, between his jaws. With a vaultingspring, he shot out through the open casement, in his recklesseagerness to escape, knocking against Lady's injured leg as he passed.

  He did not pause at Lady's scream of pain, nor did he stop until hereached the chicken-house. Crawling under this, he deposited theincriminating eagle-head in the dark recess. Finding no pursuer, heemerged and jogged innocently back toward the veranda.

  The Master, entering the house and walking across the living-roomtoward the stairs, heard Lady's cry. He looked around for her,recognizing from the sound that she must be in distress. His eye fellon Lad, crouching tense and eager in front of the shut study door.

  The Master opened the door and went into the study.

  At the first step inside the room he stopped, aghast. There lay thechewed and battered fragments of his beloved eagle. And there, in onecorner, frightened, with guilt writ plain all over her, coweredLady. Men have been "legally" done to death on far lighter evidencethan encompassed her.

  The Master was thunderstruck. For more than two years Lady had had thefree run of the house. And this was her first sin--at that, a sinunworthy any well-bred dog that has graduated from puppyhood and frommilk-teeth. He would not have believed it. He _could_ not havebelieved it. Yet here was the hideous evidence, scattered all over thefloor.

  The door was shut, but the window stood wide. Through the window,doubtless, she had gotten into the room. And he had surprised her ather vandal-work before she could escape by the same opening.

  The Master was a just man--as humans go; but this was a crime the mostmaudlin dog-spoiler could not have condoned. The eagle, moreover, hadbeen the pride of his heart--as perhaps I have said. Without a word,he walked to the wall and took down a braided dog-whip, dust-coveredfrom long disuse.

  Lady knew what was coming. Being a thoroughbred, she did not try torun, nor did she roll for mercy. She cowered, moveless, nose to floor,awaiting her doom.

  Back swished the lash. Down it came, whistling as a man whistles whoseteeth are broken. Across Lady's slender flanks it smote, with the fullforce of a strong driving-arm. Lady quivered all over. But she madeno sound. She who would whimper at a chance touch to her sore foot,was mute under human punishment.

  But Lad was not mute. As the Master's arm swung back for a secondblow, he heard, just behind, a low, throaty growl that held all themenace of ten thousand wordy threats.

  He wheeled about. Lad was close at his heels, fangs bared, eyes red,head lowered, tawny body taut in every sinew.

  The Master blinked at him, incredulous. Here was something infinitelymore unbelievable than Lady's supposed destruction of the eagle. TheImpossible had come to pass.

  For, know well, a dog does not growl at its Master. At its owner,perhaps; at its Master, never. As soon would a devout priest blasphemehis deity.

  Nor does a dog approach anything or anybody, growling and with loweredhead, unless intent on battle. Have no fear when a dog barks or evengrowls at you, so long as his head is erect. But when he growls andlowers his head--then look out. It means but one thing.

  The Master had been the Master--the sublime, blindly revered andworshiped Master--for all the blameless years of Lad's life. And now,growling, head down, the dog was threatening him.

  It was the supreme misery, the crowning hell, of Lad's career. For thefirst time, two overpowering loves fought with each other in hisGalahad soul. And the love for poor, unjustly blamed, Lady hurled downthe superlove for the Master.

  In baring teeth upon his lord, the collie well knew what he wasincurring. But he did not flinch. Understanding that swift deathmight well be his portion, he stood his ground.

  (Is there greater love? Humans--sighing swains, vow-laden suitors--canany of _you_ match it? I think not. Not even the much-laudedAntonys. They throw away only the mere world of earthly credit, forlove.)

  The Master's jaw set. He was well-nigh as unhappy as the dog. For hegrasped the situation, and he was man enough to honor Lad's profferedsacrifice. Yet it must be punished, and punished instantly--as anydog-master will testify. Let a dog once growl or show his teeth inmenace at his Master, and if the rebellion be not put down in drasticfashion, the Master ceases forever to be Master and degenerates tomere owner. His mysterious power over his dog is gone for all time.

  Turning his back on Lady, the Master whirled his dog-whip in air. Ladsaw the lash coming down. He did not flinch. He did not cower. Thegrowl ceased. The orange-tawny collie stood erect. Down came thebraided whiplash on Lad's shoulders--again over his loins, and yetagain and again.

  Without moving--head up, dark tender eyes unwinking--the hero-dog tookthe scourging. When it was over, he waited only to see the Masterthrow the dog-whip fiercely into a corner of the study. Then, knowingLady was safe, Lad walked majestically back to his "cave" under thepiano, and with a long, quivering sigh he lay down.

  His spirit was sick and crushed within him. For the first time in histhoroughbred life he had been struck. For he was one of those notwholly rare dogs to whom a sharp word of reproof is more effectivethan a beating--to whom a blow is not a pain, but a damning andoverwhelming ignominy. Had a human, other than the Master, presumedto strike him, the assailant must have fought for life.

  Through the numbness of Lad's grief, bit by bit, began to smolder andglow a deathless hate for Knave, the cause of Lady's humiliation. Ladhad known what passed behind that closed study door as well as thoughhe had seen. For ears and scent serve a true collie quite as usefullyas do mere eyes.


  The Master was little happier than was his favorite dog. For he lovedLad as he would have loved a human son. Though Lad did not realize it,the Master had "let off" Lady from the rest of her beating, in ordernot to increase her champion's grief. He simply ordered her out of thestudy.

  And as she limped away, the Master tried to rekindle his ownindignation and deaden his sense of remorse by gathering together thestrewn fragments of the eagle. It occurred to him that though the birdwas destroyed, he might yet have its fierce-eyed silvery head mountedon a board, as a minor trophy.

  But he could not find the head.

  Search the study as he would, he could not find it. He remembereddistinctly that Lady had been panting as she slunk out of theroom. And dogs that are carrying things in their mouths cannot pant.She had not taken the head away with her. The absence of the head onlydeepened the whole annoying domestic mystery. He gave up trying tosolve any of the puzzle--from Lady's incredible vandalism to thisnewest turn of the affair.

  Not until two days later could Lad bring himself to risk a meetingwith Lady, the cause and the witness of his beating. Then, yearningfor a sight of her and for even her grudged recognition of hispresence, after his forty-eight hours of isolation, he sallied forthfrom the house in search of her.

  He traced her to the cool shade of a lilac clump near the outbuildings.There, having with one paw dug a little pit in the cool earth,she was curled up asleep under the bushes. Stretched out besideher was Knave.

  Lad's spine bristled at sight of his foe. But ignoring him, he movedover to Lady and touched her nose with his own in timid caress. Sheopened one eye, blinked drowsily and went to sleep again.

  But Lad's coming had awakened Knave. Much refreshed by his nap, hewoke in playful mood. He tried to induce Lady to romp with him, butshe preferred to doze. So, casting about in his shallow mind forsomething to play with, Knave chanced to remember the prize he hadhidden beneath the chicken-house.

  Away he ambled, returning presently with the eagle's head between histeeth. As he ran, he tossed it aloft, catching it as it fell--a prettytrick he had long since learned with a tennis-ball.

  Lad, who had lain down as near to sleepily scornful Lady as he dared,looked up and saw him approach. He saw, too, with what Knave wasplaying; and as he saw, he went quite mad. Here was the thing that hadcaused Lady's interrupted punishment and his own black disgrace. Knavewas exploiting it with manifest and brazen delight.

  For the second time in his life--and for the second time in threedays--Lad broke the law. He forgot, in a trice, the command "Let himalone!" And noiseless, terrible, he flew at the gamboling Knave.

  Knave was aware of the attack, barely in time to drop the eagle's headand spring forward to meet his antagonist. He was three years Lad'sjunior and was perhaps five pounds heavier. Moreover, constantexercise had kept him in steel-and-whale-bone condition; while lonelybrooding at home had begun of late to soften Lad's tough sinews.

  Knave was mildly surprised that the dog he had looked on as a dullardand a poltroon should have developed a flash of spirit. But he was notat all unwilling to wage a combat whose victory must make him shinewith redoubled glory in Lady's eyes.

  Like two furry whirlwinds the collies spun forward toward eachother. They met, upreared and snarled, slashing wolf-like for thethroat, clawing madly to retain balance. Then down they went, rollingin a right unloving embrace, snapping, tearing, growling.

  Lad drove straight for the throat. A half-handful of Knave's goldenruff came away in his jaws. For except at the exact center, acollie's throat is protected by a tangle of hair as effective againstassault as were Andrew Jackson's cotton-bale breastworks at NewOrleans. And Lad had missed the exact center.

  Over and over they rolled. They regained their footing and rearedagain. Lad's saber-shaped tusk ripped a furrow in Knave's satinyforehead; and Knave's half deflected slash in return set bleeding thebig vein at the top of Lad's left ear.

  Lady was wide awake long before this. Standing immovable, yet wildlyexcited--after the age-old fashion of the female brute for whom malesbattle and who knows she is to be the winner's prize--she watchedevery turn of the fight.

  Up once more, the dogs clashed, chest to chest. Knave, with aninstinctive throwback to his wolf forebears of five hundred yearsearlier, dived for Lad's forelegs with the hope of breaking one ofthem between his foaming jaws.

  He missed the hold by a fraction of an inch. The skin alone wastorn. And down over the little white forepaw--one of the forepaws thatLad was wont to lick for an hour a day to keep them snowy--ran atrickle of blood.

  That miss was a costly error for Knave. For Lad's teeth sought andfound his left shoulder, and sank deep therein. Knave twisted andwheeled with lightning speed and with all his strength. Yet had nothis gold-hued ruff choked Lad and pressed stranglingly against hisnostrils, all the heavier dog's struggles would not have set him free.

  As it was, Lad, gasping for breath enough to fill his lungs, relaxedhis grip ever so slightly. And in that fraction of a second Knave torefree, leaving a mouthful of hair and skin in his enemy's jaws.

  In the same wrench that liberated him--and as the relieved tensionsent Lad stumbling forward--Knave instinctively saw his chance andtook it. Again heredity came to his aid, for he tried a manoeuverknown only to wolves and to collies. Flashing above his stumblingfoe's head, Knave seized Lad from behind, just below the base of theskull. And holding him thus helpless, he proceeded to grit and grindhis tight-clenched teeth in the slow, relentless motion that must soonor late eat down to and sever the spinal cord.

  Lad, even as he thrashed frantically about, felt there was noescape. He was well-nigh as powerless against a strong opponent inthis position as is a puppy that is held up by the scruff of the neck.

  Without a sound, but still struggling as best he might, he awaited hisfate. No longer was he growling or snarling.

  His patient, bloodshot eyes sought wistfully for Lady. And they didnot find her.

  For even as they sought her, a novel element entered into thebattle. Lady, hitherto awaiting with true feminine meekness theoutcome of the scrimmage, saw her old flame's terrible plight, underthe grinding jaws. And, proving herself false to all canons ofancestry--moved by some impulse she did not try to resist--she jumpedforward. Forgetting the pain in her swollen foot, she nipped Knavesharply in the hind leg. Then, as if abashed by her unfemininebehavior, she drew back, in shame.

  But the work was done.

  Through the red war lust Knave dimly realized that he was attackedfrom behind--perhaps that his new opponent stood an excellent chanceof gaining upon him such a death-hold as he himself now held.

  He loosed his grip and whizzed about, frothing and snapping, to facethe danger. Before Knave had half completed his lightning whirl, Ladhad him by the side of the throat.

  It was no death-grip, this. Yet it was not only acutely painful, butit held its victim quite as powerless as he had just now heldLad. Bearing down with all his weight and setting his white littlefront teeth and his yellowing tusks firmly in their hold, Ladgradually shoved Knave's head sideways to the ground and held itthere.

  The result on Knave's activities was much the same as is obtained bysitting on the head of a kicking horse that has fallen. Unable towrench loose, helpless to counter, in keen agony from the pinching ofthe tender throat-skin beneath the masses of ruff, Knave lost hisnerve. And he forthwith justified those yellowish streaks in hismouth-roof whereof the baggage-man had spoken.

  He made the air vibrate with his abject howls of pain and fear. He wascaught. He could not get away. Lad was hurting him horribly. Whereforehe ki-yi-ed as might any gutter cur whose tail is stepped upon.

  Presently, beyond the fight haze, Lad saw a shadow in front of him--ashadow that resolved itself in the settling dust, as the Master. AndLad came to himself.

  He loosed his hold on Knave's throat, and stood up, groggily. Knave,still yelping, tucked his tail between his legs and fled for hislife--out of The Place, out of your story.
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  Slowly, stumblingly, but without a waver of hesitation, Lad went up tothe Master. He was gasping for breath, and he was weak from fearfulexertion and from loss of blood. Up to the Master he went--straight upto him.

  And not until he was a scant two yards away did he see that the Masterheld something in his hand--that abominable, mischief-making eagle'shead, which he had just picked up! Probably the dog-whip was in theother hand. It did not matter much. Lad was ready for this finaldegradation. He would not try to dodge it, he the double breaker oflaws.

  Then--the Master was kneeling beside him. The kind hand was caressingthe dog's dizzy head, the dear voice--a queer break in it--was sayingremorsefully:

  "Oh Lad! Laddie! I'm so sorry. So sorry! You're--you're more of a manthan I am, old friend. I'll make it up to you, somehow!"

  And now besides the loved hand, there was another touch, even moreprecious--a warmly caressing little pink tongue that licked hisbleeding foreleg.

  Lady--timidly, adoringly--was trying to stanch her hero's wounds.

  "Lady, I apologize to you too," went on the foolish Master. "I'msorry, girl."

  Lady was too busy soothing the hurts of her newly discovered mate tounderstand. But Lad understood. Lad always understood.