on my tail it is! I'm
positively starved--no bones, no chicken, only beastly dry dog-biscuits
and milk twice a day! I wish I could rummage about in gutters and places
as Jock does--but I don't think the things you find in gutters are ever
_really_ nice. Jock does--but he's just that low sort of dog who
_would_!'

Jock was a humble friend of his down in the village, a sort of distant
relation to the Dandie Dinmonts; he was a rough, long-backed creature,
as grey as a badger, and with a big solemn head like a hammer. Don was
civil to him in a patronising way, but he did not tell him of the
indignities he was subject to, perhaps because he had been rather given
to boast of his influence over his mistress, and the high consideration
he enjoyed at Applethwaite Cottage.

Now Daisy used to go up for solitary rambles on the fells sometimes,
when she generally took Don as a protector. He was becoming very nearly
as active as ever, and now there was a stronger motive than before for
pursuing the swallows--for he had a notion that they would be rather
good eating. But one morning she missed him on her way back through the
village by the lake; she was sure he was with her on the pier, and she
had only stopped to ask some question at the ticket-office about the
steamboat times; and when she turned round, Don was gone.

However, her aunt was neither angry nor alarmed. Miss Millikin was not
able to walk as much as Don wished, she said, so he was accustomed to
take a great deal of solitary exercise; he was such a remarkably
intelligent dog that he could be trusted to take care of himself--oh, he
would come back.

And towards dusk that evening Don did come back. There was a curious air
about him--subdued, almost sad; Daisy remembered long afterwards how
unusually affectionate he had been, and how quietly he had lain on her
lap till bedtime.

The next morning, when her aunt and she prepared to go for a walk along
the lake, Don's excitement was more marked than usual; he leaped up and
tried to caress their hands: he assured them in a thousand ways of the
delight he felt at being allowed to make one of the party.

After this, it was a painful surprise to find that he gave them the
slip the moment they reached the village. But Miss Millikin said he
always did prefer mountain scenery, and no doubt it was tiresome for him
to have to potter about as they did. And Master Don began to give them
less and less of his society in the daytime,