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s a rule； he was all around them and in front and behind； in a series of gay rushes； as they started on these walks。 But not until the Master called him； tonight； did he appear。 And then he came up dolorously from the tool…house。
Lad did not understand； at all； what was wrong。 He knew only that Lady had been shut up in a place she detested and that she was horribly unhappy and that the Master would not let her out。 It perplexed him； and it made him increasingly wretched。 Not only did he miss his playfully capricious young mate； but her unhappiness made him heartsick。
Vainly； he tried to plead with the Master for her release； as the walk began； and again at its end。
There were such a lot of things in the world that even the cleverest collie could not make head or tail of！ And most of these things were sad。
That night； when the house was shut； Lad crept as usual into his cave under the piano。 And he lay down with a sigh； his great head between his two absurdly small white forepaws。 As a rule； before going to sleep for the night； Lad used to spend much time in licking those same snowy forepaws into shining cleanliness。 The paws were his one gross vanity； and he wasted more than an hour a day in keeping them spotlessly white。 But tonight he was too depressed to think of anything but the whimpering little dog imprisoned down in the tool…house。
After a while； he fell asleep。
A true watchdog sleeps with all his senses or the very edge of wakefulness。 And when he wakens； he does not waken as do we humans；yawningly； dazedly； drunk with slumber。 At one moment he is sound asleep。 At the next he is broad awake； with every faculty alert。
So ever it was； with Lad。 So it was with him； this night。 An hour before dawn； he woke with sharp suddenness； and at once he was on his feet； tense； on guard。 He did not know what had roused him。 Yet； now that he was awake； two of his senses recorded something which banished from him all thought of further sleep。
To his ears came a far…off muffled wail；a wail which held more than unhappiness；a wail which vibrated with real terror。 And he knew the voice for Lady's。
To his sensitive nostrils； through the intervening distance and the obstructing walls and windows； drifted a faint reek of smoke。
Now； the smoke…smell； by itself； meant nothing whatever to Lad。 All evening a trace of it had hung in the air； from the brush fire。 And； in any case； this whiff was too slight to have emanated from the house or from any spot near the house。 Yet； taken together with Lady's cry of fear
Lad crossed to the front door； and scratched imperiously at it。 The locked door did not yield to his push。 Too sensible to keep on at a portal he could not open； he ran upstairs； to the closed door of the Master's room。 There； again he scratched； this time harder and more loudly。 Twice and thrice he scratched； whining under his breath。
At last the deep…slumbering Master heard him。 Rousing himself； and still three…quarters asleep； he heard not only the scratching and the whimper but； in the distance； Lady's wail of fear。 And； sleep…drugged； he mumbled
〃Shut up； Laddie！I hear her。Let her howl。If she's lonely； down there； she'llshe'll remember the lessonall the better。 Go downstairs andbe quiet！〃
He fell sound asleep again。 Obedient to the slumbrous mandate； Lad turned and pattered mournfully away。 But； he was not content to return to his own nap； with that terror…cry of Lady's echoing in his ears。 And he made a second attempt to get out。
At each side of the piano； in the music room； was a long French window。 Often； by day； Lad used to pass in or out of these door…like windows。 He knew that they； as well as the doors； were a recognized means of exit。 Now； with eagerly scratching paw； he pushed at the nearest of them。
The house was but carelessly locked at night。 For Lad's presence downstairs was a better burglar…preventive than the best bolts ever forged。 Tired and drowsy； the Master； this night； had neglected to bar the French windows。
The window gave； at Lad's vehement scratch； and swung outward on its hinges。 A second later； the big dog was running at top speed toward the tool…house。
Now； the ways of the most insignificant brushfire are beyond the exact wisdom of man。 Especially in droughty weather。 When they knocked off work for the day； the two laborers had gone back to the blaze beyond the tool…house and conscientiously had scattered and stamped on its last visible remnants。 The Master； too； coming home from his evening walk； had glanced toward the back garden and had seen no telltale spark to hint at life in the trampled fire。
Nevertheless； a scrap of ember； hidden from the men's gaze beneath a handful of dead leaves had refused to perish with its comrade…sparks。 And； in the course of five hours； an industrious little flicker had ignited other bits of brush and of dried leafage and last year's weed stumps。 The wind was in the north。 And it had guided the course of the crawling thread of red。 The advancing line had thrown out tendrils of scarlet； as it went。
Most of these had died； in the plowed ground。 One had not。 It had crept on； half…extinguished at times and again snapping merrily； until it had reached the tool…house。 The shed…like room stood on low joists； with a clear space ten inches high between its flimsy board floor and the ground。 And； in this space； the leaves of the preceding autumn had drifted in windrows。 The persevering spark did the rest。
Lady woke from a fitful doze； to find herself choking from smoke。 The boards of the floor were too hot for endurance。 Between their cracks thin wavery slices of smoke were pouring upward into the room。 The leaves had begun to ignite the floor…boards and the lower part of the ramshackle building's thin walls。
While the pain and humiliation of her whipping had not been able to wring a sound from the young thoroughbred； yet fright of this sort was afar different thing。 Howling with panic terror； she dashed about the small enclosure； clawing frantically at door and scantling。 Once or twice she made half…hearted effort to spring up at the closed window。 But； from lack of running…space as well as from lack of nerve to make the high leap； she failed。
Across the lawn and door…yard and around the end of the stables thundered Lad。 With the speed of a charging bull he came on。 Before he reached the burning shack； he knew more of his mate's plight and peril than any human could have known。
Around the small building he whirled； so close to it that the flames at its base seared his mighty coat and blistered and blackened his white paws。
Then； running back a yard or so； he flung his eighty…pound weight crashingly at the fastened door。 The door； as it chanced； was well…nigh the only solid portion of the shack。 And it held firm； under an impact that bruised the flying dog and which knocked him breathless to the fire…streaked ground。
At sound of her mate's approach； Lady had ceased wailing。 Lad could hear her terrified whimpers as she danced frantically about on the red…hot boards。 And the knowledge of her torture drove him momentarily insane。
Staggering up from his fall； he flung his splendid head back and； with muzzle to the