p."

"Brain," said the other, listening--"I feared as much all along. It's all
up, Bill."

Bill was down, and had got one of his hands under the dog's head.

The bark came again: only a very weak one; not enough to disturb anybody
near. It became continuous after that; grew a little louder; then
gradually fainter.

Perhaps he was hunting birds, though it may be doubted. More likely he
was working to the hand over the sunlit fields, in the glad air, with a
full life all before him yet; and in the company of one whom he loved
with his whole heart, and to whom, while learning constantly himself, he,
a dog, had taught no end of things.

There can be little doubt that he was working by the hand. Of course he
was. But the hand that was beckoning him now was from over the
border--from the land where there is room for both the man and the dog,
and where there shall be a blessed reunion with old friends.

The bark died away: Murphy was dead.

"Not five years; or only just," remarked Bill.

Both men heaved a sigh.

Day was breaking as they walked away together down the yard.

* * * * *

A few days later came this, written by one whose business it was to tend
the sick and the suffering among animals; to whom their passing was no
rare event; and who must have had many thousands through his hands:

"I am so very sorry; but it was really a happy release after the brain
symptoms had developed.

"I can only say your dog won the affection of all of us here to an extent
unequalled by any other patient. I think this was due to the very brave
way that he bore his sufferings, his kind and amenable temperament, and
his almost human intelligence. There is no doubt that this last increased
the susceptibility of his brain to disease, and made recovery hopeless."

* * * * *

Two men were working their way slowly up the Dene. They were the
shepherd, Job Nutt, and his second. And their dogs followed them closely
to heel.

They had just set out a new bait for the sheep on the vetches lower down,
and were making for home.

Violet shadows had stretched themselves out to their furthest over the
red wheat, now rapidly ripening; soon they would fade out altogether, and
the woods would grow blue. For the sun was touching the line of the
distant hills, and the long day's work was done.

"Why, there goes Him," says one, pointing up at the down to t