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As Lad tugged his burden beneath the stringpiece； the Master bent down and gripped the sodden wet shoulders of the constable。 One none…too…gentle heave； and Wefers was lying in a panting and dripping heap on the clean dock。 Lad； relieved of his heavy load； swam leisurely around to shore。 It had been a delightfully thrilling day； thus far； for the collie。 But he was just a bit tired。
By the time the dazed constable was able to sit up and peer owlishly into the unloving faces of the Mistress and the Master； Lad had shaken himself thrice and was pattering across the dock toward the group。 From the two humans； Wefers' gaze shifted to the oncoming dog。 Then he glanced back at the sullen depths of lake water beyond the string…piece。 Then he let his head sink on his chest。 For perhaps a whole minute； he sat thus； his eyes shut； his breath still fast and hysterical。
Nobody spoke。 The Mistress looked down at the drenched man。 Then she winked at the equally silent Master； and laid a caressing little hand on Lad's wet head。 At length； Wefers lifted his face and glowered at the trio。 But； as his eye met Lad's quizzically interested gaze； he fidgeted。
〃Well？〃 prompted the Master； 〃do you want those cartridges back？〃
Wefers favored him with a scowl of utter dislike。 Then； his eyes again averted； the wet man mumbled
〃I come over here today； to do my dooty。Dogs that get bit by mad dogs had ought to be shot。I come over here to do my dooty。 Likewise； I done it。I shot that dog of yours that got bit； yest'day。〃
〃Huh？〃 ejaculated the Master。
〃This dog here looks some like him；〃 went on Wefers； sulkily。 〃But it ain't him。 And I'll so report to the author'ties。I done what I come to do。 The case is closed。 And…and…if you folks ever want to sell your dog； why；well； I'll just go mortgage something andand buy him off'n you！〃
CHAPTER III。 No Trespassing！
There were four of them； two gaudily…clad damsels and two men。 The men； in their own way； were attired as gloriously as the maidens they were escorting。 The quartet added generously to the glowing beauty of the summer day。
Down the lake they came； in a canoe modestly scarlet except for a single broad purple stripe under the gunwale。 The canoe's tones blended sweetly with the pink parasol and blue picture hat of one of the women。
Stolid and unshaven fishermen； in drab scows； along the canoe's route； looked up from their lines； in bovine wonder at the vision of loveliness which swept resonantly past them。 For the quartet were warbling。 They were also doing queer musical stunts which are fondly miscalled 〃close harmony。〃
Thus do they and their kind pay homage to a divine day on a fire…blue lake； amid the hush of the eternal hills。 Lesser souls may find themselves speaking in few and low…pitched words； under the holy spell of such surroundings。 But to loftier types of holiday…seekers； the benignant silences of the wilderness are put there by an all…wise Providence for the purpose of being fractured by any racket denoting care…free merriment；the louder the merrier。 There is nothing so racket…breeding as a perfect day amid perfect scenery。
The four revelers had paddled down into the lake； on a day's picnicking。 They had come from far up the Ramapo river； beyond Suffern。 And the long downstream jaunt had made them hungry。 Wherefore； as they reached mid…lakes they began to inspect the wooded shores for an attractive luncheon…site。 And they found what they sought。
A half…mile to southward； a gently rolling point of land pushed out into the lake。 It was smooth…shaven and emerald…bright。 It formed the lower end of a lawn； sloping gently downward； a hundred yards or more； from a gray old house which nestled happily among mighty oaks on a plateau at the low hill's summit。
The point （with its patch of beach…sand at the water's edge； and with comfortable shade from a lakeside tree or so）； promised an ideal picnic…ground。 The shaven grass not only offered fine possibilities for an after…luncheon snooze； but was the most convenient sort of place for the later strewing of greasy newspapers and Japanese napkins and wooden platters and crusts and chicken bones and the like。
Moreover； a severely plain 〃No Trespass〃 sign； at the lake…margin； would serve as ideal kindling for a jolly little camp…fire。 There is always a zest in using trespass boards for picnic fires。 Not only are they seasoned and painted in a way to cause quick ignition； but people laugh so appreciatively； when one tells； afterward； of the bit of jovial audacity。
Yes； this point was just the place for luncheon and for siesta。 It might have been made to order。 And by tacit consent the two paddlers sent their multi…chrome canoe sweeping toward it。 Five minutes later； they had helped the girls ashore and were lifting out the lunch…basket and various newspaper parcels and the red…and…purple cushions。
With much laughter and a snatch or two of close harmony； the lunch was spread。 One of the men picked out a place for the fire （against the trunk of a two…century oak； perhaps the millionth noble old tree to be threatened thus with death from care…free picnickers' fires） and the other man sauntered across to the trespass board to annex it for kindling。
Everything was so happy and so complete and everyone was having such a perfect time！ Into such moments Fate loves best to toss Trouble。 And； this day； Fate played true to form。
As the fire…maker's hand was laid on the trespass board； even as his inconsequential muscles were braced to rip it loose from its post；a squeal from the girl in the blue picture hat and the Nile…green georgette waist； checked his mirthful activities。
Now； there was nothing remarkable in the fact that the chromatic lass had squealed。 Indeed； she and her equally fair companion had been squealing at intervals； all morning。 But there was nothing coquettish or gay about this particular squeal。 It savored rather of a screech。 In its shrill note was a tiny thread of terror。 And the two men wheeled about； to look。
The blue…hatted girl had paused in her dainty labor of helping to spread out the lunch； in order to peep inquisitively up the slope toward the tree…framed house above。 It might be fun； after eating； to stroll up there and squint in through the veranda windows； or；if no one was at home； to gather an armful of the roses that clambered over one end of the porch。
During that brief exploratory glance； her eye had been caught by something moving through the woods beyond。
Behind the house； these woods ran up to the highroad； a furlong above。 A driveway led twistingly down from the gate…lodge； to the house。 Along this drive； was pacing a dog。
As the girl caught sight of him； the dog halted in his lazy stroll and stood eagerly erect； his nose upraised； his tulip ears pricked。 Sound or scent； or both； had been arrested by some unusual presence。 And he paused to verify the warning。
As he stood there； an instant； in the shade…flecked driveway； the girl saw he was a collie； massive； graceful； majestic； in the full strength of his early prime； his shaggy coat of burnished mahogany…and…snow glinting back the showers of sun…rays that filtered down through the leaves。
Before