gently at her feet
the baby robin he had found. His keen teeth had not so much as ruffled
its pinfeather plumage. Having done his share toward settling the
bird's dilemma, Laddie stood back and watched in grave interest while
the Mistress lifted the fluttering infant and put it back in the nest
whence it had fallen.

"That makes the fifth baby bird Laddie has brought to me in a month,"
she commented, as she and the Master turned back toward the house. "To
say nothing of two field mice and a broken-winged bat. He seems to
think I'll know what to do for them."

"I only hope he won't happen upon a newborn rattlesnake or copperhead
and bring it to you for refuge," answered the Master. "I never saw
another dog, except a trained pointer or setter, that could handle
birds so tenderly. He--"

The bumping of a badly handled rowboat, against the dock, at the foot
of the lawn, a hundred yards below, checked his rambling words. Lad, at
sudden attention, by his master's side, watched the boat's occupant
clamber clumsily out of his scow; then stamp along the dock and up the
lawn toward the house. The arrival was a long and lean and lank and
lantern-jawed man with a set of the most fiery red whiskers ever seen
outside a musical comedy. The Master had seen him several times, in the
village; and recognized him as Homer Wefers, the newly-appointed
Township Head Constable. The Mistress recognized him, too, as the
vehement official whose volley of pistol-bullets had ended the
sufferings of the black mongrel. She shivered, in reminiscence, as she
looked at him. The memory he evoked was not pleasant.

"Morning!" Wefers observed, curtly, as the Master, with Lad beside him,
stepped forward to greet the scarlet-bearded guest. "I tried to get
over here, last night. But I guess it's soon enough, today. Has he
showed any signs, yet?" He nodded inquiringly at the impassive Lad, as
he spoke.

"'Soon enough' for what?" queried the puzzled Master.

"And what sort of 'signs' are you talking about?"

"Soon enough to shoot that big brown collie of yours," explained
Wefers, with businesslike briskness. "And I'm asking if he's showed any
signs of hydrophoby. Has he?"

"Are you speaking of Laddie?" asked the Mistress, in dismay; as the
slower-witted Master, stared and gulped. "Why should he show any signs
of hydrophobia? He--"

"If he hasn't, he will," rapped out the visitor. "Or he would, if he
wasn't put out of the way. That's what I'm here fo