left
open, and looked at the roof of the house. If any fire had started it
had been drowned at once by deluges of rain. When father and son
returned, Mrs. Jennings had lit another lamp. Here they all were, with
white faces. Only Mac was gone.

For the better part of three days they searched for him, in the attic,
in the cellar, in the barns and outhouses, in the woods near by. On the
afternoon of the third day, Jennings stooped down and peered underneath
the corn crib. It was set low to the ground, and two sides were boarded
up. On the unboarded side weeds had grown. It was quite dark underneath.

At first he could not be sure what that dim suggestion of white he made
out could be. Then he pushed aside the weeds and peered more closely,
his eyes the while growing more accustomed to the dark. Finally he
straightened up and called loudly:

"Here he is, folks!"

They all came running, Mrs. Jennings leaving her supper to burn if need
be, Frank dropping his ax at the woodpile. When they reached him, Tom
Jennings was stooping down and pleading:

"Come, Mac! Come, old man! We are all here."

But the white figure did not stir.

At last Frank wormed his long, adolescent body underneath the sleepers
of the crib, caught hold of the front paws, and pulled the setter gently
forth. They examined him all over, but at first they could find no sign
of injury. It was Frank who saw and understood. Frank had always had a
way of knowing what was the matter with animals.

"He's blind," said the youth.

Some of the neighbours, when they heard, said Jennings ought to put him
out of his misery. But no such thought ever entered the head of any
member of the Jennings family. They built him a kennel underneath the
bedroom window. They taught him where to find his plate of food on the
kitchen steps. Soon he learned to find his way about the yard.

At first he ran into things--into the corner of the house, into the
woodpile, or into the chicken coops. He never whimpered when he did so,
but looked humbled and ashamed. At last he located each object,
calculated respective distances, and before the summer was over he
avoided obstacles as if he had had eyes.

You would not have known he was blind but for the fact that when he drew
near the steps or near a door--he learned to open screen doors with his
paws--he would raise his front foot, and feel about like a blind man
with a stick.

One day at dinner Jennings spoke to his family. "I don'