ferociously.

And that was the picture the Master beheld; as he flung open the
door and blinked gaspingly through the smoke for the dog he had
locked in.

Brought out of bed, on the jump, by Lad's unearthly wolf howl, he
had smelt the smoke and had run out to investigate. But, not
until he unbarred the tool-house door did he guess that Lady was
not the burning shack's only prisoner.

"It'll be another six months before your wonderful coat grows out
again, Laddie dear," observed the Mistress, next day, as she
renewed the smelly wet cloths on Lad's burned and glass-cut body.
"Dr. Hopper says so. But he says the rest of you will be as well
as ever, inside of a fortnight. And he says Lady will be well,
before you will. But, honestly, you'll never look as beautiful,
again, to me, as you do this very minute. He--he said you look
like a scarecrow. But you don't. You look like a--like a--a-What
gorgeously splendid thing DOES he look like, dear?" she appealed
to her husband.

"He looks," replied the Master, after deep thought, "he looks
like LAD. And that's about the highest praise I know how to give
him;--or give to anyone."



CHAPTER V. The Stowaway