solution. And Lad was profoundly interested as to the sequel. All
of which showed as clearly in the collie's whimsically expressive
face as ever it could have been set forth in print.

Both men began to talk at once; with lurid earnestness and vast
wealth of gesture. So did the women.

There was no need. The Master, already, had caught sight of the
half-spread lunch on the grass. And it was by no means his first
or his tenth experience with trespassers. He understood. Snapping
his fingers, to summon Lad to his side, he patted the dog's
silken head; and strove not to laugh.

"And just as we was sitting down, peaceful, to eat, and not
harming no one at all and minding our own business," came a
fragment of one man's oration, above the clamor of the others,
"that big dark-sable collie of yours came tearing down on us
and--"

The triple opposition of outcry and complaint blurred the rest of
his enraged whine. But the Master looked out at him in new
interest. The man had used the term, "dark-sable collie"; which,
by the way, was the technical phrase for Lad's coloring. Not one
non-collie-man in a thousand would have known the meaning of the
term; to say nothing of using it by instinct. The Master stared
curiously at the floundering and sputtering speaker.

"Aren't you the manager of the Lochaber Collie Kennels, up at
Beauville?" he asked, speaking loud enough to be heard above the
subsiding din. "I think I've seen you at Westminster and at some