How'd I get here, anyhow? What happened me?"

When the vet had worked over Lad for an hour and had patched him up and
had declared there was no doubt at all about his getting well, Wolf and
Bruce were brought in to see the invalid. The Mistress thought he might
be glad to see them.

He was not.

Indeed, after one scornful look in their direction, Laddie turned away
from the visitors, in cold disgust. Also, he was less demonstrative
with the Mistress, than usual. Anyone could see his feelings were
deeply hurt. And anyone who knew Lad could tell why.

He had borne the brunt of the fight. And, at the last, these lesser
dogs had won the victory without his aid. Still worse, his beloved
Mistress,--for whom he had so blithely staked his aged life,--the
Mistress had held him back by force from joining in the delirious last
phases of the battle. She had made him stand tamely by, while others
finished the grand work he had begun.

It was not fair. And Laddie let everyone in sight know it was not fair;
and that he had no intention of being petted into a good humor.

Still, when, by and by, the Mistress sat down on the floor beside him
and told him what a darling and wonderful and heroic dog he was and how
proud she felt of his courage, and when her dear hand rumpled the soft
hair behind his ears,--well, somehow Lad found himself laying his head
in her lap; and making croony low sounds at her and pretending to bite
her little white hand.

It was always hard to stay offended at the Mistress.

CHAPTER XI. The Guard

Lad was old--very, very old. He had passed his sixteenth birthday. For
a collie, sixteen is as old as is ninety-five for a human.

The great dog's life had been as beautiful as himself. And now, in the
late twilight of his years, Time's hand rested on him as lovingly as
did the Mistress's. He had few of the distressing features of age.

True; his hearing was duller than of yore. The magnificent body's lines
were blurred with flesh. The classic muzzle was snow white; as were the
lashes and eyebrows. And the once mighty muscles were stiff and
unwieldy. Increasing feebleness crept over him, making exercise a
burden and any sudden motion a pain. The once trumpeting bark was a
hollow echo of itself.

But the deep-set dark eyes, with a soul looking out of them, were as
clear as ever. The uncannily wise brain had lost not an atom of its
power. The glorious mahogany-and-snow coat was still abundant. The
fearl