nd lodging for a few weeks, to save himself from the charity
of the infirmary. By this act he admitted the humiliating and fearful
fact that he was very ill. The precious little hoard must be hidden from
the chance prowler. He looked for a loose brick in the fireplace, but
before he found one, he forgot all about it, and absent-mindedly heaped
the coins in a little pile on the open Bible at the back of the bed.

For a long time Auld Jock sat there with his head in his hands before
he again slipped back to his pillow. Darkness stole into the quiet room.
The lodgers returned to their dens one after one, tramping or slipping
or hobbling up the stairs and along the passage. Bobby bristled and
froze, on guard, when a stealthy hand tried the latch. Then there
were sounds of fighting, of crying women, and the long, low wailing
of-wretched children. The evening drum and bugle were heard from the
Castle, and hour after hour was struck from the clock of St. Giles while
Bobby watched beside his master.

All night Auld Jock was "aff 'is heid." When he muttered in his sleep or
cried out in the delirium of fever, the little dog put his paws upon the
bed-rail. He scratched on it and begged to be lifted to where he could
comfort his master, for the shelf was set too high for him to climb into
the bed. Unable to get his master's attention, he licked the hot hand
that hung over the side. Auld Jock lay still at last, not coughing any
more, but breathing rapid, shallow breaths. Just at dawn he turned his
head and gazed in bewilderment at the alert and troubled little creature
that was instantly upon the rail. After a long time he recognized the
dog and patted the shaggy little head. Feeling around the bed, he found
the other bun and dropped it on the floor. Presently he said, between
strangled breaths:

"Puir--Bobby! Gang--awa'--hame--laddie."

After that it was suddenly very still in the brightening room. Bobby
gazed and gazed at his master--one long, heartbroken look, then dropped
to all fours and stood trembling. Without another look he stretched
himself upon the hearthstone below the bed.

Morning and evening footsteps went down and came up on the stairs.
Throughout the day--the babel of crowded tenement strife; the crying of
fishwives and fagot-venders in the court; the striking of the hours; the
boom of the time gun and sweet clamor of music bells; the failing of the
light and the soaring note of the bugle--he watched motionless