me, son," he said.

Tommy looked at the dog with fear and with mute apology. In his heart
was hatred of that baggageman, and vain, vain regret that he had ever
come to Breton Junction to see the train. All the way home the dog
trotted under the axle of the buggy. In the days that followed a far
less sagacious dog than he would have sensed the anxiety that disturbed
the homestead on the hill to which his destiny had led him.

There was nothing particularly extraordinary about a buggy turning in
from the main road and coming up the long hill toward the house. Frank,
basking in the morning sun, kept his eyes on it merely out of curiosity.
But as it drew closer he rose slowly to his feet, his ears erect.
Unreasoning antipathy to the couple in it raised his hair in a long tuft
down his back. He withdrew toward the barn, his head over his shoulder,
the sun glistening on his coat of silk.

"There he is!" cried Lancaster.

"Dan--Dan!" shrilled the woman.

The man jumped out of the buggy, lifted her to the ground, and both
hurried toward him, smiling like old friends eager to be recognized. The
woman extended her hand.

"Dan!" she coaxed.

He drew away toward the barn, his tail wagging sheepishly, mollified by
their friendliness, wishing he could extend to them the welcome of the
hill--but afraid of them and of what they represented. Steve Earle
hurried out of the house, followed by Marian and Tommy, who held his
mother's hand. They all shook hands--all but Tommy, who withdrew from
the group with a frightened glance at the dog. Then Earle and Lancaster
came toward him, Lancaster talking.

"We received notice from the railroad," he was saying, "and as Mrs.
Lancaster and I were on our way to Florida, we thought we would stop
over and make sure. The railroad has never met our claim." He laughed.
"You know how a railroad is."

"Is that the dog?" demanded Earle.

"Oh, yes--undoubtedly."

Earle stopped. "Come, Frank," he ordered.

Frank hesitated, still wagging his tail. Smiling, Lancaster took a step
toward him. A wolfish gleam came into the dog's eyes. He threw his head
up like a wild horse. Lancaster took another step forward. He turned
and bounded across the field, down the hill to the woods.

All day long he remained in the woods, gold with autumn, brilliant with
many coloured leaves that sifted slowly to the ground and flashed for a
moment transparent as they crossed the shafts of sunlight. The bell at
the house