ore lustily than
ever, swung up the aisle with the air of the Church Militant. Only the
few who were slightly bitten remained behind to be conducted by
Joy-of-Life to the hospital for immediate attention to their wounds,
while Sigurd and I made for home, marking the trail with our blood. No
real harm was done. Coco's owner, though secretly convinced that Sigurd
did all the biting, insisted on paying the doctor's bills and, a few
days after the encounter, Sigurd, with a scarred forehead, welcomed his
injured defenders to a dinner-party, at which I presided with my arm in
a sling. Sigurd seemed to feel a dim responsibility for that hurt of
mine and, as long as I wore a bandage, would come up at intervals to
give it a penitent lick.

At all the festivals of the spring term Sigurd deemed his attendance
indispensable. He fell in with the parades, frisked out into the midst
of the campus dances, and once, at least, took a conspicuous part in
the Tree Day pageant. A graceful, carmine-clad Narcissus had died to
slow music on the bank of Longfellow Fountain. The wood-nymphs and
water-nymphs, Diana and her train, even the hilltop Oreads had tripped
off the sylvan stage, but the audience, massed on the other side of the
pool, refused to take the hint and, instead of breaking up, still sat
spell-bound, their gaze fastened on poor Narcissus, who, cramped in the
dying attitude, could not conceive any dramatic way of coming to life
again. So we bade Sigurd: "Go find," and after two false starts, once
for a squirrel and once for a stick, he sped straight for Narcissus
and, anxiously thrusting his nose into her face, recognized a special
friend and broke into loud barks of joy, while, throwing her arm about
him, she sprang no less gladly to her feet. The audience thought it all
a part of the pageant, the prevailing opinion being that Sigurd was
playing the role of Cerberus and welcoming Narcissus to Hades.

But for all his years of enthusiastic college attendance, Sigurd never
took a degree. Not even his own Class of 1911 was allowed to carry out
its design of dressing their mascot in a specially made cap and gown
and leading him with them in the Commencement procession. His B.A.
stood only for Beloved Animal.

TO SIGURD

Not one blithe leap of welcome? Can you lie
Under this woodland mold,
More still
Than broken daffodil,
When I,
Home from too long a roving,
Come up the silent hill?
Dear