CHAPTER IX. Old Dog; New Tricks

  A mildewed maxim runs: "You can't teach an old dog new tricks."

  Some proverbs live because they are too true to die. Others endurebecause they have a smug sound and because nobody has bothered to burythem. The one about old dogs and new tricks belongs in both categories.In a sense it is true. In another it is not.

  To teach the average elderly dog to sit up and beg, or to roll overtwice, or to do other of the asinine things with which humans stultifythe natural good sense of their canine chums, is as hard as to teach asixty-year-old grave-digger to become a musical composer.

  But no dog with a full set of brains is ever past learning new thingswhich are actually needful for him to learn. And, sad to say, many anold dog, on his own account, picks up odd new accomplishments--exploitswhich would never have occurred to him in his early prime. Nobody knowswhy. But it has happened, numberless times.

  And so it was with Sunnybank Lad.

  Laddie had passed his twelfth birthday; when, by some strange freak, hebrought home one day a lace parasol. He had found it in the highroad,on his way back to the Place after a sedate ramble in the forest. Now,it was nothing new for the great collie to find missing articlesbelonging to the Mistress or to the Master. Every now and then he wouldlay at their feet a tobacco pouch or a handkerchief or a bunch of keysthat had been dropped, carelessly, somewhere on the grounds; and whichLad recognized, by scent, as belonging to one of the two humans heloved.

  These bits of treasure trove, he delighted in finding and restoring.Yes, and--though those who had never seen him do this were prone todoubt it--he was certain to lay the recovered object at the feet ofwhichever of the two had lost it. For instance, it never occurred tohim to drop a filmy square of lace-and-cambric at the muddied feet ofthe Master; or a smelly old tobacco-pouch at the Mistress's little feet.

  There was nothing miraculous about this knowledge. To a high-bred dog,every human of his acquaintance has a distinctive scent; which cannotbe mistaken. Lad used no occult power inn returning to the rightfulowner any article he chanced to find on lawn or on veranda.

  But the lace parasol was different. That, presumably, had fallen fromsome passing motor-car, bound for Tuxedo or for the Berkshires. It didnot belong at the Place.

  Lad happened to see it, lying there in the highway. And he brought it,forthwith, to the house; carrying it daintily between his mighty jaws;and laying it on the living-room floor in front of the astonishedMistress. Probably, he laid it before her, instead of before theMaster, because she was the first of the two whom he happened toencounter. It is doubtful if he realized that a parasol is a purelyfeminine adjunct;--although the Mistress always declared he did.

  She picked up the gift and looked it over with real admiration. It wasa flimsily beautiful and costly thing; whose ivory handle was deftlycarven and set with several uncut stones; and whose deep fringe of lacewas true Venetian Point.

  "Why, Laddie!" she exclaimed, in wondering delight. "Where in the worlddid you get this? Look!" she went on, as her husband came in from hisstudy. "See what Laddie brought me! I saw him coming down the drivewith something in his mouth. But I had no idea what it was. Isn't it abeauty? Where do you suppose he--?"

  "As long as motorists go around curves at forty miles an hour," decidedthe Master, "so long their piled-up valuables are likely to be jostledout of the tonneau. I found a satchel, last week, at the curve, upthere, you remember; and a hat, the week before. What are you going todo about this thing?"

  "Oh," said the Mistress, with a sigh of renunciation, "I suppose we'llhave to advertise it; and watch the 'Lost and Found' columns, too.But--wouldn't it be glorious if nobody should see our advertisementor--or ever advertise for it? It's so lovely! I hate to think it maybelong to somebody who can't appreciate it as I do."

  Now, Laddie had lived on the Place for many more years than he couldremember. And he had spent the bulk of that time in studying the facesand the voices and the moods of these two people whom he worshiped.Moreover, he had an intelligence that is not given to most dogs,--evento collies--and a queer psychic twist to his brain that had puzzled hisowners as much as it had delighted them:

  Watching the Mistress, now, with his classic head on one side and hisdeep-set dark eyes fixed on her eager face, he saw that his roadwaygift had made her very happy. Also, that her caressing hand on his headshowed pride in what he had done. And this, as ever, thrilled the olddog, to the very soul.

  He wagged his plumed tail, in gladness, and thrust his nose into herpalm and began to "talk" in gleeful treble. To none but the Mistressand the Master would Lad deign to "talk." And, none listening to himcould doubt he was trying to copy the human voice and human meanings.

  "Dear old Laddie!" praised the Mistress, running her fingers throughhis lion-like ruff. "GOOD Laddie! Thank you, ever so much! Nobody but avery, VERY wonderful collie named Lad could have had the perfect tasteto pick out such a parasol. And now we're going to have a whole handfulof animal crackers, for reward."

  The crooningly sweet voice, the petting, the gift of animal crackers ofwhich he was childishly fond--all these delighted Lad beyond measure.And they confirmed him in the belief that he had done something mostlaudable.

  What he had done was to pick up a stray object, away from home, andbring it to the Mistress. He knew that. And that was all he knew. But,having won high praise for the deed, he resolved then and there torepeat it.

  Which proves that old dogs can be taught new tricks. And which startedall the trouble.

  That afternoon, the Mistress and the Master went for a five-mile ramblethrough the woods and over the mountains, back of the Place. With themwent old Laddie, who paced gravely between them. With them, also, wentBruce, the magnificent dark sable collie of kingly look and demeanor;who was second only to Lad in human traits and second to no livinganimal in beauty. Bruce was glorious to look upon. In physique and incharacter he had not a flaw. There was a strange sweetness to hisdisposition that I have found in no other dog.

  With Lad and Bruce, on this walk, raced Lad's fiery little golden son,Wolf.

  Of old, Lad had led such runs. Now, advancing age and increased weighthad begun to make him chary of throwing away his fading energies.Wherefore, he walked between his two deities; and let the two youngerdogs do the galloping and rabbit chasing.

  And he had his reward. For, as they neared the highroad on the wayhome, Wolf and Bruce chanced to tree a squirrel. Thus, Lad was first toreach the road with the two humans. Suddenly, he darted ahead of them;and snatched up from the wayside the somewhat worn case of a thermosbottle which had been discarded there or had fallen from a car-seat.This he bore to the Mistress; fairly vibrating with pride in his ownexploit.

  Noting his joy in the deed, she made much of the shabby gift; praisingand thanking Lad, inordinately; and forbearing to throw away the worncase until the collie was out of sight.

  Of late, as Laddie began to show signs of age, she and the Master hadtaken to making more and more of him; to atone for his growingfeebleness and to anticipate the dark day which every dog-owner mustface;--the day when his voice and his caress can no longer meananything to the pet who once rejoiced so utterly in them.

  All of which went to confirm Lad in the natural belief that anythingfound on the road and brought to the Mistress would be looked on withjoy and would earn him much gratitude. So,--as might a human in likecircumstances,--he ceased to content himself with picking up triflesthat chanced to be lying in his path, in the highway, and fell tosearching for such flotsam and jetsam.

  He began the hunt, next morning. Pacing gravely along the center of theroad, he headed toward the mile-distant village. By sheer luck, suchfew automobiles as chanced along, at that hour, were driven by folk whohad heart enough to slow down or to turn aside for the majesticallystrolling old dog. To the end of his long life, Lad could never be madeto understand that he was not entitled to walk at will in the exactmiddle of the road. Perhaps his lofty assurance in taking such a cour
semade motorists check speed to spare him.

  This morning, he had fared but a half-mile when he saw a car drawn upat the edge of the road, beside a shaded bit of turf. Several peoplehad just descended from it; and were making preparations for an earlypicnic lunch. One of them had finished depositing a basket on theground, at the side of the car farthest from the strip of sward wherethe others were spreading a sea-rug and setting an impromptu table.

  The man put the basket down in the road. Then he dived back into thenether regions of the machine for more provender. And he was engaged inthis groping when Lad came in view, around a bend.

  The big collie saw the basket standing there, unprotected and, so faras he knew, ownerless. Gravely he stepped forward, lifted the heavyreceptacle by the handle and turned about with it; still moving withdignified slowness. The table-setters were busy; and the car wasbetween him and them.

  By the time the other member of the party succeeded in finding thethings he was seeking under the rear seat, Lad had rounded the bend andwas out of sight. To this day, none of the motorists has the remotestsolution to the mystery of the vanished lunch.

  Lad had not stolen the basket. He would have suffered himself to be cutin three, before sinking to theft or to any other sneaking act. He hadfound a basket standing alone in the highroad, several feet away fromthe nearest humans. He had no way of guessing it belonged to them. Sofar as he was concerned, this was as much a lost article as had beenthe gorgeous parasol. He had been praised to the skies for bringing theparasol and the thermos case to the Mistress. He had every reason toexpect the same meed of praise for this new gift.

  Indeed, to Lad's way of thinking, he might well hope for even higherpraise. For the parasol had been an odorless and foolish thing of noapparent usefulness; while this basket exhaled most heavenly scents offried chicken and other delectable foods. Heavy as was the burden, itdid not occur to Lad to set it down. Fragrant as were its contents, itdid not occur to him to nose the cover off and sample them. There wasno tinge of snooping in his make-up. No, the basket was a gift for theMistress. And as such he was bearing it home to her.

  "See what Laddie brought me, this time!" cried the Mistress, cominginto her husband's study, a few minutes later, and holding forth thetrophy. "It's full of food, too; and of course he never touched amouthful of it. But I gave him two of the frosted cakes, by way ofreward. He's ridiculously happy over them,--and over the fuss I madeabout the basket."

  "H'm!" mused the Master, inspecting the present. "Jostled off thecar-seat, as some fool of a driver took the curve at top speed! Well,that same driver has paid for his recklessness, by the loss of hislunch. It's funny, though--There's not a trace of mud or dust on this;and even the food inside wasn't jostled about by the tumble. That curveis paying us big dividends, lately. It's a pity no bullion trucks passthis way. Still, parasols and picnic lunches aren't to be sneered at."

  Lad was standing in the study doorway, eyes alight, tail waving. TheMaster called him over and petted him; praising this newestaccomplishment of his, and prophesying untold wealth for the Place ifthe graft should but continue long enough.

  There was something pathetic in dear old Laddie's pleasure over the newtrick he had learned; or so it seemed to the two people who loved him.And they continued to flatter him for it;--even when, among othertrophies, he dragged home a pickaxe momentarily laid aside by a roadmender; and an extremely dead chicken which a motor-truck wheel hadflattened to waferlike thickness.

  Which brings us, by degrees to the Rennick kidnaping case.

  Claude Rennick, a New York artist of considerable means, had rented forthe summer an ancient Colonial farmhouse high among the Ramapo hills;some six miles north of the Place, There, he and his pretty young wifeand their six-months-old baby had been living for several weeks; when,angered at a sharp rebuke for some dereliction in his work, Schwartz,their gardener, spoke insultingly to Mrs. Rennick.

  Rennick chanced to overhear. Being aggressively in love with his wife,he did not content himself with discharging Schwartz. Instead, hethrashed the stalwart gardener, then and there; and ended the drasticperformance by pitching the beaten man, bodily, out of the grounds.

  Schwartz collected his battered anatomy and limped away to his home inthe hills just above. And, that night, he called into council his twofarmhand brothers and his wife.

  Several characteristic plans of revenge were discussed in solemndetail. These included the burning of the Rennick house or barn, orboth; the shooting of Rennick from among the hillside boulders as theartist sketched; of waylaying him on his walk to the post-office, bynight, and crippling him for life; and other suggestions equally dearto the hearts of rural malefactors.

  But one plan after another was vetoed. To burn any of the propertywould cause Rennick nothing worse than temporary annoyance; as hemerely rented the farm. Daylight shooting was a dangerous and uncertainjob; especially since automobiles had opened up the district toconstantly passing outsiders. It was Schwartz himself who decidedagainst waylaying his foe by night. He had too recent memories ofRennick's physical prowess to care about risking a second dose of thesame medicine. And so on with the other proposals. One and all wererejected.

  Then it was that Mrs. Schwartz hit upon an idea which promised not onlypunishment, but profit. She had done washing for the Rennicks and shehad access to the house. She proposed that they steal the Rennick baby,on the first night when opportunity should offer; carry him to a carthe brothers were to have waiting; and thence take him to her sister inPaterson.

  There, the youngster would be well cared for. In a family of not lessthan seven children, the presence of an extra baby would not excitepolice query. Her sister had more than once taken babies to board withher, during their mothers' temporary absence in service or in jail. Andthe newcomer could pass readily as one of these.

  Negotiations could set in; and, if care were taken, a reward of atleast two thousand dollars might be extracted safely from the franticparents. Thus, the Rennicks could be made to sweat blood and money too,in payment of the injuries wrought upon the aching frame of Schwartz.At first, the three men sheered off from the plan. Kidnaping is a wordwith an ugly sound. Kidnaping is a deed with ugly consequences.Kidnaping is a crime whose perpetrators can hope for no atom ofsympathy from anybody. Kidnaping is perilous, past words.

  But, deftly, Mrs. Schwartz met and conquered the difficulties raised.In the first place, the baby would come to no harm. Her sister wouldsee to that. In the second, the matter of the reward and of the returncould be juggled so as to elude detectives and rural constables. Shehad known of such a case. And she related the details;--clever yetutterly simple details, and fraught with safety to allconcerned;--details which, for that very reason, need not be cited here.

  Bit by bit, she went on with her outline of the campaign; testing eachstep and proving the practicability of each.

  The next Thursday evening, Rennick and his wife went, as usual, to theweekly meeting of a neighborhood bridge club which they had joined forthe summer. The baby was left in charge of a competent nurse. At nineo'clock, the nurse went to the telephone in reply to a call purportingto be from an attendant at a New York hospital.

  This call occupied the best part of twenty minutes. For the attendantproceeded to tell her in a very roundabout way that her son had beenrun over and had come to the hospital with a broken leg. He dribbledthe information; and was agonizingly long-winded and vague in answeringher volley of frightened questions.

  Shaken between duty to her job and a yearning to catch the next trainfor town, the nurse went back at last to the nursery. The baby's cribwas empty.

  It had been the simplest thing in the world for Mrs. Schwartz to enterthe house by the unfastened front door, while one of her husband'sbrothers held the nurse in telephone talk; and to go up to the nursery,unseen, while the other servants were in the kitchen quarters. Thereshe had picked up the baby and had carried him gently down to the frontdoor and out of the grounds.

  One of Schwartz's broth
ers was waiting, beyond the gate; with adisreputable little runabout. Presently, the second brother joined him.Mrs. Schwartz lifted the baby into the car. One of the men held itwhile the other took his place at the steering wheel. The runabout hadstarted upon its orderly fourteen-mile trip to Paterson, before thepanic stricken nurse could give the alarm.

  Mrs. Schwartz then walked toward the village, where her husband mether. The two proceeded together to the local motion picture theater.There, they laughed so loudly over the comedy on the screen that themanager had to warn them to be quieter. At once, the couple becamenoisily abusive. And they were ordered ignominiously from the theater.There could scarcely have been a better alibi to prove their absence ofcomplicity in the kidnaping.

  Meanwhile, the two brothers continued quietly on their journey towardPaterson. The baby slept. His bearer had laid him softly on the floorof the car. A few drops of paregoric, administered by Mrs. Schwartz asthe child awoke for an instant on the way to the gate, insured soundslumber. The joggling of the car did not rouse the tiny sleeper; as helay snugly between the feet of the man into whose care he had beengiven.

  The first six miles of the easy journey were soon traversed. Then, witha pop and a dispiritedly swishing sound, a rear tire collapsed. Outinto the road jumped both men. Their nerves were none too steady. And,already, in fancy they could hear all the police cars in New Jerseyclose at their heels. It behooved them to change tires in a hurry, andto finish their nerve-twisting trip.

  The driver vaulted over the side nearest him and began to explore theunder-seat regions for a jack. The other man picked up the baby andhurried to the rear of the runabout to detach the spare tire from itsdusty rack. Manifestly, he could not unstrap the tire while he wascarrying a baby in his arms. So he set down his burden at the roadside,near him.

  Then, still obsessed by fear of pursuit, he hit on a safer scheme.Picking up the sleeper again, he carried the warm little bundle to thefar side of the road, some thirty yards beyond, and deposited it there,behind a dwarf alder bush which screened it from any stray automobilistwho might be passing. Thus, in case of pursuit, he and his brotherwould merely be changing tires; and would know nothing of any missingbaby.

  Failing to find a jack under the seat, the driver climbed over into theadjoining field in search of two or three big stones to serve the samepurpose in holding up the axle. For several minutes the men worked fastand tensely; blind and deaf to anything except the need of haste.

  Thus it was that neither of them saw a tawny-and-snow collie,--huge andshaggy except for a pair of absurdly tiny white forepaws,--come pacingmajestically along the road from the direction in which they wereheading. The car lamps played but faintly upon the advancing Lad; forthe dimmers had been applied.

  The big dog was taking his usual before-bedtime stroll. Of old, thatevening stroll had been confined to the Place's grounds, a quarter-milebeyond. But, lately, his new obsession for finding treasures for theMistress had lured him often and oftener to the highway.

  Tonight, as for a day or so past, he had drawn blank in his quest. Theroad had been distressingly bare of anything worth carrying home. But,now, as he moved along, his near-sighted eyes were attracted by a dimblur of white, behind a bush, at the road-edge; just within the dimradiance of the car-lamps. Even sooner than he saw this, his keennostrils had told him of human presence there. He shifted his course toinvestigate.

  Standing over the compactly-fastened swathing of clothes, Laddie bentdown and sniffed. It was a human. He knew that; in spite of the thickveil that covered the slumberer's face. But it was also a bundle. Itwas a bundle which might well be expected to delight the Mistressalmost as much as had the parasol;--far more than had the defunctchicken.

  Daintily, with infinite gentleness, Lad fixed his teeth in the loosestportion of the bundle that he could find; and lifted it. It wasamazingly heavy, even for so powerful a dog. But difficulties had neveryet swerved Lad from any set purpose. Bracing his strength, he turnedhomeward, carrying the burden between his mighty jaws.

  And now, he was aware of some subtler feeling than mere desire to bringthe Mistress one more gift. His great heart had ever gone out in lovingtenderness toward everything helpless and little. He adored children.The roughest of them could take unpardonable liberties with him. Hewould let them maul and mistreat him to their heart's content; and hereveled in such usage; although to humans other than the Mistress andthe Master, he was sternly resentful of any familiarity.

  His senses told him this bundle contained a child;--a baby. It had beenlying alone and defenseless beside the road. He had found it. And hisheart warmed to the helpless little creature which was so heavy tocarry.

  Proudly, now, he strode along; his muscles tensed; moving as if onparade. The bundle swinging from his jaws was carried as lovingly asthough it might break in sixty pieces at any careless step.

  The spare tire was adjusted. The men glanced nervously up and down theroad. No car or pedestrian was in sight. The driver scrambled to hisplace at the wheel. His brother crossed to the alder bush behind whoseshelter he had left the baby. Back he came, on the run.

  "'Tain't there!" he blithered. "'Tain't there! 'Tain't rolled nowheres,neither. It's been took! Lord! What're we goin' to--?"

  He got no further. His brother had scrambled down from the seat; andpushed him aside, in a dash for the alder. But a few seconds of franticsearch proved the baby was gone. The two men glared at each other insilent horror. Then by tacit impulse they got into the car.

  "It couldn't 'a' walked off, could it?" gurgled the driver. "They can'twalk, can they;--not at six months? Not far, anyhow?"

  "It--it was took!" sputtered his brother between chattering teeth.

  Another moment of scared silence. Then the driver rallied his awedfaculties. Stepping on the self-starter, he brought the runabout intomotion, and headed down the road.

  "Where are you goin'?" queried the other. "No use a-keepin' on, thisd'rection. It--"

  "If it was took," answered the driver, truculently, "'twasn't took byno car. We'd 'a' heard a car or we'd 'a' saw it. If it had been took bytwo or three folks a-walkin', we'd 'a' heard 'em blat to each otherwhen they seen the kid layin' there. That means it was took by oneperson, all alone. He didn't pass us, while we was workin'. Then,unless he's took to the fields, he's a-goin' the same way we are. An'we're due to overhaul him. There'll only just be one of him; andthere's two of us. I ain't aimin' to lose my slice of that twothousand; without hittin' a single lick to get it. If he--SUFFERIN'PINK SNAKES!"

  In his sudden dismay, he drove down both feet on the pedals. Theindignant car stalled. Through the blackness ahead, the white ray fromthe lamps had picked up a weird object. And the two brethren stared atit, slack-jawed.

  Walking sedately on, in front of the stalled runabout, and in the exactcentre of the dusty road, moved an animal. Huge and formless it bulked,as it receded into the fainter glow of light. It might have beenanything from a lion to a bear; in that uncertain glimmer. But, thelamps' rays played strongly enough on one detail of the apparition toidentify it, past doubt, to both the dumfounded onlookers. They saw,clearly enough, a white bundle suspended from the monster'sjaws;--unquestionably the bundle which had been laid behind the alder.

  For perhaps ten seconds the men sat moveless, gaping goggle-eyed. Then,the driver murmured in a faraway voice:

  "Did you--did you--was you fool enough to think you seen anything? Wasyou, Eitel?"

  "I-I sure seen SUTHIN', Roodie," quavered Eitel. "Suthin' with--withthe kid in its mouth. It--"

  "That's good enough for me!" announced the heroic Roodie, stampingagain on the self-starter.

  "If we both seen it, then it was THERE. And I'm goin' after it."

  In another brace of seconds the lights once, more picked up the darkanimal with its white bundle. Eitel shrank back in his seat. But Roodieput on another notch of gas. And, coming closer, both recognized thestrange bundle-carrier as a dark-hued collie dog.

  The identification did little to ea
se their feeling of incredulousmystification. But it banished their superstitious dread. Both of themwere used to dogs. And though neither could guess how this particulardog happened to be stealing the twice-stolen baby, yet neither had theremotest fear of tackling the beast and rescuing its human plunder.

  Roodie brought the abused runabout to another jerky stop within a fewinches of the unconcerned collie. And he and Eitel swarmed earthwardfrom opposite sides of the machine. In a trice, Roodie had struck Ladover the head; while Eitel grabbed at the bundle to drag it away fromthe dog.

  Now, the weight of years was beginning to tell on Laddie. But thatweight had not robbed him of the ability to call, at will, upon much ofhis oldtime strength and bewildering swiftness. Nor had it in any waydampened his hero-spirit or dulled his uncannily wise brain.

  He had been plodding peacefully along, bearing home a wonderful gift--agift oftener confided to the care of storks than of collies--when hehad been attacked from two sides in most unprovoked fashion. He hadbeen struck! His blood surged hot.

  There was no Law governing such a case. So, as usual in new crises, Ladproceeded to make his own Law and to put it into effect.

  A deft turn of the head eluded Eitel's snatching hand. With thelightness of a feather, Lad deposited the bundle in the soft dust ofthe road. In practically, the same gesture, the dog's curving eye-toothslashed Eitel's outstretched wrist to the bone.

  Then, staggering under a second head-blow from Roodie, the colliewheeled with lightning-swift fury upon this more hostile of his twoassailants.

  Hurling himself at the man's throat, in silent ferocity, he well-nighturned the nocturnal battle into a killing. But Roodie's left arm, byinstinct, flew up to guard his threatened jugular.

  Through coat and shirt and skin and flesh,--as in the case of Lady'sslayer,--the great dog's teeth clove their way; their rending snapchecked only by the bone of the forearm. The impetus of hiseighty-pound body sent the man clean off his balance. And together thetwo crashed backward to the ground.

  Lad was not of the bulldog breed which seeks and gains a hold and thenhangs on to it with locked jaws. A collie fights with brain as much aswith teeth. By the time he and Roodie struck the earth, Lad tore freefrom the unloving embrace and whizzed about to face the second of hisfoes.

  Eitel had taken advantage of the moment's respite to seize with hisuninjured hand his slashed wrist. Then, on second thought, he releasedthe wounded wrist and bent over the baby; with a view to picking him upand regaining the comparative safety of the car's floor. But hiswell-devised maneuver was not carried out.

  For, as he leaned over the bundle, extending his hands to pick it up,Lad's teeth drove fiercely into the section of Eitel's plump anatomywhich chanced to be presented to him by the stooping down of thekidnaper. Deep clove his sharp fangs. Nor did Eitel Schwartz sit downagain with any degree of comfort for many a long day.

  With resounding howls of pain, Eitel thrashed up and down the road;endeavoring to shake off this rear attack. The noise awakened the baby;who added his wails to the din. Roodie got dizzily to his feet; hisleft forearm useless and anguished from the tearing of its muscles:

  "Shut up!" he bellowed. "You want to bring the whole county down on us?We--"

  He ceased speaking; and lurched at full speed to the car and to the topof its single seat. For, at sound of his voice, Lad had loosed his gripon the screeching Eitel and whirled about on this earlier adversary.

  The man reached the car-seat and slammed the door behind him, perhaps asixth of a second too soon for Lad to reach him.

  Eitel, warned by his brother's bawled command, made a rush for theother side of the machine and clambered up. He was a trifle lessfortunate than had been Roodie, in making this ascent. For Lad'sflashing jaws grazed his ankle and carried away in that snap a sampleof Eitel's best town-going trousers.

  Thus, on the seat of the car, swaying, and clutching at each other,crouched the two sore-wounded brethren; while Lad ravened about thevehicle, springing upward now and, again in futile effort to clear thetop of the closed door.

  Far down the road shone the lights of an approaching motor. Eiteldropped into the driving seat and set the runabout into motion. Oncemore, the dread of pursuit and of capture and of prison dancedhideously before his frightened mental vision.

  Barely missing the crying baby, as the runabout jerked forward, he madea fruitless attempt to run down the raging collie. Then he addressedhimself to the business of getting himself and his brother as far outof the way as possible, before the oncoming car should reach the sceneof strife.

  As a matter of fact, the other car never reached this spot. Itsoccupants were two youths and two damsels, in search of a sequesteredspace of road where they might halt for a brief but delectable "pettingparty," on their way to a dance in the village. They found such aspace, about a furlong on the thither side of the curve where therunabout had stopped. And they advanced no farther.

  Lad, for a few rods, gave chase to the retreating Schwartzes. Then, theheavy exertions of the past minute or two began to exact toll on hisaging body. Also, the baby was still whimpering in a drowsy monotone,as the paregoric sought to renew its sway on the racket awakened brain.

  The dog turned pantingly back to the bundle; pawed it softly, as thoughto make sure the contents were not harmed; then once more picked it upgingerly between his reddened jaws; and continued his sedate homewardjourney.

  The Mistress and the Master were sitting on the veranda. It was almostbedtime. The Master arose, to begin his nightly task of locking thelower windows. From somewhere on the highroad that lay two hundredyards distant from the house, came the confused noise of shouts. Then,as he listened, the far-off sounds ceased. He went on with his task oflocking up; and returned in a minute or two to the veranda.

  As he did so, Lad came walking slowly up the porch steps. In his mouthhe carried something large and white and dusty. This he proceeded todeposit with much care at the feet of the Mistress. Then he stood back;tail waving, dark eyes mischievously expectant.

  "Another dividend from the curve!" laughed the Master. "What is it,this time? A pillow or--?"

  He broke off in the middle of his amused query. For, even as he turnedhis flashlight on the dusty and blood-streaked bundle, the baby beganonce more to cry.

  The local chief of police, in the village across the lake, was makingready for bed, when a telephone summons brought him back to his lowerhallway.

  "Hello!" came the Master's hail, over the wire. "Chief, has there beenany alarm sent out for--for a missing baby?"

  "Baby?" echoed the Chief. "No. Have you lost one?"

  "No. I've found one. At least, Laddie has. He's just brought it home.It is dressed in unusually costly things, my wife says. There was awhite baby-blanket strapped around it. And there are dust and streaksof fresh blood on the blanket. But the baby himself isn't hurt at all.And--"

  "I'll be over there, in fifteen minutes," said the Chief, alive withprofessional interest.

  But in ten minutes he was on the wire once more.

  "Has the baby blanket got the monogram, 'B.R.R', on one corner?" heasked excitedly.

  "Yes," answered the Master. "I was going to tell you that, when youhung up. And on--"

  "That's the one!" fairly shouted the Chief. "As soon as you finishedtalking to me, I got another call. General alarm out for a kidnapedbaby. Belongs to those Rennick people, up the Valley. The artists thatrented the old Beasley place this summer. The baby was stolen, an hourago; right out of the nursery. I'll phone 'em that he's found; and thenI'll be over."

  "All right. There's another queer point about all this. Our dog--"

  "Speaking of dogs," went on the garrulous Chief, "this is a wakefulevening for me. I just got a call from the drug store that a couple offellows have stopped there to get patched up from dog-bites. They say adozen stray curs set on 'em, while they were changing a tire. Thedruggist thought they acted queer, contradicting each other in bits oftheir story. So he's taking his time, fixing them; t
ill I can drop inon my way to your house and give 'em the once over. So---"

  "Do more than that!" decreed the Master, on quick inspiration. "What Istarted to tell you is that there's blood on Lad's jaws; as well as onthe baby's blanket. If two men say they've been bitten by dogs--"

  "I get you!" yelled the other. "Good-by! I got no time to waste, when aclew like that is shaken in front of me. See you later!"

  Long before the Chief arrived at the Place with triumphant tidings ofhis success in "sweating" the truth from the mangled and nerve-rackedSchwartzes, the two other actors in the evening's drama were miles awayamong the sunflecked shadows of Dreamland.

  The baby, industriously and unsanitarily sucking one pudgy thumb, wascuddled down to sleep in the Mistress's lap. And, in the depths of hiscave under the living-room piano, Lad was stretched at perfect ease;his tiny white forepaws straight in front of him.

  But his deep breathing was interrupted, now and then, by a mutteredsigh. For, at last, one of his beautiful presents had failed to causehappiness and praise from his gods. Instead, it had apparently turnedthe whole household inside out; to judge by the noisy excitement andthe telephoning and all. And, even in sleep, the old dog felt justlychagrined at the way his loveliest present to the Mistress had beenreceived.

  It was so hard to find out what humans would enjoy and what theywouldn't!