led Colonel
Osbourne, owner of the Lochaber Collie Kennels. With him walked the
Mistress and the Master.

At the Mistress's side paced Lad.

"It was so careless of us to leave the suitcase at home!" the Mistress
was saying. "I don't know how we could have groomed him, Colonel, if
you hadn't come to our rescue by turning that kit bag's heaven-sent
contents over to us. Besides, it gave us the excuse to bring Laddie up
into the house; instead of leaving him all alone in that black stall.
He hates thunderstorms, and--"

A yell, from somewhere, interrupted her. The yell was caught up. It
merged into a multiple roar of inextinguishable laughter. The Mistress
saw a hundred faces all turned in one direction, The faces were
convulsed with mirth. A hundred derisively wondering fingers were
pointing. She ran to the veranda rail and looked down.

Across the patch of greensward, from the stables, a man and a dog were
advancing. The man was shaking his fist at the world at large and
fairly dancing with rage.

But it was the dog, and not he, that caused the Homeric gusts of
merriment and the gobbling chorus of amazed questions. The dog was a
collie; noble of aspect, massive of coat.

But that same coat vied with the setting sun in garish brilliancy of
hue. Never since the birth of time, had such a beast been seen by
mortals. From the tip of his aristocratic nose to the plume of his
sweeping tail, the collie was one blazingly vivid mass of crimson! He
fairly irradiated flaring red lights. His coat was wet and it hung
stickily to his lean sides, as if he had just come from a swim. And it
was tinted like a chromo of a prairie fire.

Following more slowly to the veranda's edge, Colonel Osbourne had begun
a reply to the Mistress's half-finished speech of gratitude for his
hospitality.

"I was only too glad to be of service," said he. "That's a grand dog
you have. It was a real pleasure to help in his grooming. Besides, I
profited by it. You see, my Lochaber King was quartered in a muddy
corner under the veranda. So I took the liberty of telling my man,
Rice, to put him in that comfortable big stall of Lad's. I am the chief
gainer by the--"

His courtly speech became a gurgle of horror. For, his eyes fell on the
ragingly advancing Rice. And, by deduction, he recognized the crimson
monstrosity at Rice's heels as his beloved Lochaber King.

Before the apoplectic Colonel could speak, Lad created a diversion on
his own account. He