It was all over in something like two seconds. Up stormed the
crowd; the pistol-wielder at its head. Three shots were fired at
point-blank range. By some miracle none of them harmed Lad;
although one bullet scratched his foreleg on its way to the black
giant's brain.

As soon as she could, the Mistress got herself and the
loudly-praised Lad into the car and set off for home. Now that
the peril was over, she felt dizzy and ill. She had seen what it
is not well to see. And the memory of it haunted her for many a
night thereafter.

As for Lad, he was still atingle with excitement. The noisy
praise of those babbling humans had bothered him; and he had been
glad to escape it. Lad hated to be mauled or talked to by
strangers. But the Mistress's tremulous squeeze and her
shuddering whisper of "Oh, Laddie! LADDIE!" had shown she was
proud of him. And this flattered and delighted Lad, past all
measure.

He had acted on impulse. But, from the Mistress's manner, he saw
he had made a wonderful hit with her by what he had done. And his
tail thumped ecstatically against the seat as he cuddled very
close to her side.

At home, there was more praise and petting;--this time from both
the Mistress and the Master. And the Master bathed and patched
the insignificant bullet-scratch on the collie's foreleg.
Altogether, it was a gala afternoon for the young dog. And he
loved it.