dropped, several hundred feet in a very few minutes, and from the
clear air of the breezy hilltop to a nether world that was buried
fathoms deep in a sea-fog as white as milk.

Hidden in a deep fold of the spreading skirts of the range, and
some distance from the road, lay a pool, made by damming a burn,
and used, in the shearing season, for washing sheep. Surrounded
by brushy woods, and very damp and dark, at other seasons it was
deserted. Bobby found this secluded place with his nose, curled
up under a hazel thicket and fell sound asleep. And while he
slept, a nipping wind from the far, northern Highlands swooped
down on the mist and sent it flying out to sea. The Lowlands
cleared like magic. From the high point where Bobby lay the road
could be seen to fall, by short rises and long descents, all the
way to Edinburgh. From its crested ridge and flanking hills the
city trailed a dusky banner of smoke out over the fishing fleet
in the Firth.

A little dog cannot see such distant views. Bobby could only read
and follow the guide-posts of odors along the way. He had begun
the ascent to the toll-bar when he heard the clatter of a cart
and the pounding of hoofs behind him. He did not wait to learn if
this was the Cauldbrae farmer in pursuit. Certain knowledge on
that point was only to be gained at his peril. He sprang into the
shelter of a stone wall, scrambled over it, worked his way along
it a short distance, and disappeared into a brambly path that
skirted a burn in a woody dell.

Immediately the little dog was lost in an unexplored country. The
narrow glen was musical with springs, and the low growth was