Under the station eaves, and waiting to be taken aboard the
almost-due eleven-forty express, several crates and parcels were
grouped. One crate was the scene of much the same sort of escape-
drama that Lass had just enacted.

The crate was big and comfortable, bedded down with soft sacking
and with "insets" at either side containing food and water. But
commodious as was the box, the unwonted confinement did not at
all please its occupant--a temperamental and highly bred young
collie in process of shipment from the Rothsay Kennels to a
purchaser forty miles up the line.

This collie, wearying of the delay and the loneliness and the
strange quarters, had begun to plunge from one side of the crate
to the other in an effort to break out. A carelessly nailed slat
gave away under the impact. The dog scrambled through the gap and
proceeded to gallop homeward through the snow.

Ten seconds later, Lass, drawn by the lights and by the scent of
the other dog, came to the crate. She looked in. There, made to
order for her, was a nice bed. There, too, were food and drink to
appease the ever-present appetite of a puppy. Lass writhed her
way in through the gap as easily as the former occupant had
crawled out.

After doing due justice to the broken puppy biscuits in the
inset-trough, she curled herself up for a nap.

The clangor and glare of the oncoming express awakened her. She