ns, back of the Place. With them
went old Laddie, who paced gravely between them. With them, also, went
Bruce, the magnificent dark sable collie of kingly look and demeanor;
who was second only to Lad in human traits and second to no living
animal in beauty. Bruce was glorious to look upon. In physique and in
character he had not a flaw. There was a strange sweetness to his
disposition that I have found in no other dog.

With Lad and Bruce, on this walk, raced Lad's fiery little golden son,
Wolf.

Of old, Lad had led such runs. Now, advancing age and increased weight
had begun to make him chary of throwing away his fading energies.
Wherefore, he walked between his two deities; and let the two younger
dogs do the galloping and rabbit chasing.

And he had his reward. For, as they neared the highroad on the way
home, Wolf and Bruce chanced to tree a squirrel. Thus, Lad was first to
reach the road with the two humans. Suddenly, he darted ahead of them;
and snatched up from the wayside the somewhat worn case of a thermos
bottle which had been discarded there or had fallen from a car-seat.
This he bore to the Mistress; fairly vibrating with pride in his own
exploit.

Noting his joy in the deed, she made much of the shabby gift; praising
and thanking Lad, inordinately; and forbearing to throw away the worn
case until the collie was out of sight.

Of late, as Laddie began to show signs of age, she and the Master had
taken to making more and more of him; to atone for his growing
feebleness and to anticipate the dark day which every dog-owner must
face;--the day when his voice and his caress can no longer mean
anything to the pet who once rejoiced so utterly in them.

All of which went to confirm Lad in the natural belief that anything
found on the road and brought to the Mistress would be looked on with
joy and would earn him much gratitude. So,--as might a human in like
circumstances,--he ceased to content himself with picking up trifles
that chanced to be lying in his path, in the highway, and fell to
searching for such flotsam and jetsam.

He began the hunt, next morning. Pacing gravely along the center of the
road, he headed toward the mile-distant village. By sheer luck, such
few automobiles as chanced along, at that hour, were driven by folk who
had heart enough to slow down or to turn aside for the majestically
strolling old dog. To the end of his long life, Lad could never be made
to understand that he was not