rd by an
ingenious contrivance of ropes and loops designed to enable me to
unleash him on a summer morning from my sleeping balcony--we decided
that we would rather have our collie with all his frolic imperfections
on his head than cowed into slavish obedience. Only once when, hardly
out of puppyhood, he dashed from my side, as we were walking decorously
on the sidewalk, and danced backward on his hind legs in front of a
dodging automobile, out-barking its distracted horn, did I attempt to
whip him. He had barely escaped with life and limb and, determined to
impress him, for his own safety, with his wrong-doing, I caught him by
the collar, doubled the leash which I still carried but had almost
ceased to use, and began to beat him with it about the head. Sigurd's
astonished yelp was answered in an instant from the side street where
dwelt the Sisters and, like a white knight of chivalry, Laddie came
charging out, thrusting himself between us, leaping upon me and
demanding, with a wrath seldom seen in his gentle eyes, that I stop
maltreating his twin.

Of course the brothers took the chance to run away together. It was
slushy going and when Sigurd came home at seven o'clock, so tired that
he could hardly drag one muddy foot after another, he was in shocking
trim, his white hose and shirt-front soaked to a disreputable gray. It
was unlucky, for his amateur dramatics were to be crowned that evening
by a public part on the college stage. He was to be Faithful Dog,
watching beside his master,--a forgotten hero of the Revolution,--as
that gallant young lieutenant slept away the hour before daybreak, when
he was to be executed as a spy. At a low whistle of the rescuer beneath
the window, Faithful Dog was to arouse his master by placing a wary paw
upon the sleeper's breast and, when the lieutenant had made good his
escape, remain behind to face the angry guard and be shot extremely
dead in his master's place. Sigurd had thrown himself into this noble
role with enthusiasm and rehearsed it several times with distinguished
success.

An escort of sophomores had been waiting for him in an agony of
impatience and, when he at last arrived, there could be no thought of
dinner or a nap. Sigurd was hustled down to the laundry, put through
merciless ablutions and rushed off to the college barn, our impromptu
theater, in the snug little vehicle that our liveryman called his
"coop." Three or four girls were sardined in with him, flourishing