oted creature attend that ferry. There
was only one thing to prevent him going home to the hills, not the
distance nor the chance of getting lost, but the conviction that Robin,
the godlike Robin, wished him to stay by the ferry; and he stayed.

But he crossed the water as often as he felt it would serve his purpose.
The fare for a dog was one penny, and it was calculated that Wully owed
the company hundreds of pounds before he gave up his quest. He
never failed to sense every pair of nethers that crossed the
gangplank--6,000,000 legs by computation had been pronounced upon by
this expert. But all to no purpose.

His unswerving fidelity never faltered, though his temper was obviously
souring under the long strain.

We had never heard what became of Robin, but one day a sturdy drover
strode down the ferry-slip and Wully mechanically assaying the new
personality, suddenly started, his mane bristled, he trembled, a low
growl escaped him, and he fixed his every sense on the drover.

One of the ferry hands not understanding, called to the stranger, "Hoot
mon, ye maunna hort oor dawg."

"Whaes hortin 'im, ye fule; he is mair like to hort me." But further
explanation was not necessary. Wully's manner had wholly changed. He
fawned on the drover, and his tail was wagging violently for the first
time in years. A few words made it all clear. Dorley, the drover, had
known Robin very well, and the mittens and comforter he wore were
of Robin's own make and had once been part of his wardrobe. Wully
recognized the traces of his master, and despairing of any nearer
approach to his lost idol, he abandoned his post at the ferry and
plainly announced his intention of sticking to the owner of the mittens,
and Dorley was well pleased to take Wully along to his home among the
hills of Derbyshire, where he became once more a sheep-dog in charge of
a flock.

II

Monsaldale is one of the best-known valleys in Derbyshire. The Pig
and Whistle is its single but celebrated inn, and Jo Greatorex, the
landlord, is a shrewd and sturdy Yorkshireman. Nature meant him for a
frontiersman, but circumstances made him an innkeeper and his inborn
tastes made him a--well, never mind; there was a great deal of poaching
done in that country.

Wully's new home was on the upland east of the valley above Jo's inn,
and that fact was not without weight in bringing me to Monsaldale. His
master, Doricy, farmed in a small way on the lowland, and on the moors
h