Crowding close to her tawny side was a tiny, shapeless creature
that looked more like a fat blind rat than like anything else. It
was a ten-hour-old collie pup--a male, and yellowish brown of
hue.

"That's the climax!" complained the Master, breaking in on the
Mistress's rhapsodies. "Here we've been planning to start a
kennel of home-bred collies! And see what results we get! One
solitary puppy! Not once in ten times are there less than six in
a collie-litter. Sometimes there are a dozen. And here the dog
you wheedled me into keeping has just one! I expected at least
seven."

"If it's a freak to be the only puppy in a litter," answered the
Mistress, refusing to part with her enthusiasm over the miracle,
"then this one ought to bring us luck. Let's call him 'Bruce.'
You remember, the original Bruce won because of the mystic
number, seven. This Bruce has got to make up to us for the seven
puppies that weren't born. See how proud she is of him! Isn't she
a sweet little mother?"

The second of the morning's events was a visit from the foreman
of the Rothsay Kennels, who motored across to The Place, intent
on clearing up a mystery.

"The Boss found a collie yesterday, tied in the front yard of a
negro cabin a mile or two from our kennels," he told the Master.
"He recognized her right away as Rothsay Princess. The negro
claims to have found her wandering around near the railroad
tracks, one night, six months ago. Now, what's the answer?"