The door was shut with such a business-like click that the
situation suddenly
became serious. Bobby's vocal powers, however, gave no signs of
diminishing. Mr. Traill quieted the dog for a few moments by
letting him into the outer room, but the swiftness and energy
with which he renewed his attacks on the door and on the man's
will showed plainly that the truce was only temporary. He did
not know what he meant to do except that he certainly had no
intention of abandoning the little dog. To gain time he put on
his hat and coat, picked Bobby up, and opened the door. The
thought occurred to him to try the gate at the upper end of the
kirkyard or, that failing, to get into Heriot's Hospital grounds
and put Bobby over the wall. As he opened the door, however, he
heard Geordie Ross's whistle around the bend in Forest Road.

"Hey, laddie!" he called. "Come awa' in a meenit." When the
sturdy boy was inside and the door safely shut, he began in his
most guileless and persuasive tone: "Would you like to earn a
shulling, Geordie?"

"Ay, I would. Gie it to me i' pennies an' ha'pennies, Maister
Traill. It seems mair, an' mak's a braw jinglin' in a pocket."

The price was paid and the tale told. The quick championship of
the boy was engaged for the gallant dog, and Geordie's eyes
sparkled at the prospect of dark adventure. Bobby was on the
floor listening, ears and eyes, brambly muzzle and feathered tail
alert. He listened with his whole, small, excited body, and hung
on the answer to the momentous question.