muzzle dropped in the outstretched palm. A wind
slightly perfumed with the odour of melting snow and
unsheathing buds swept the lake beside them, and lifted
a waving tangle of light hair on the brow of the man, while
a level ray of the setting sun flashed across the water and
illumined the graven, sensitive face, now alive with keen
interest in the game being played.

``Bel, dost remember the day?'' inquired the Harvester.

The eager attitude and anxious eyes of the dog betrayed
that he did not, but was waiting with every sense alert
for a familiar word that would tell him what was
expected.

``Surely you heard the killdeers crying in the night,''
prompted the man. ``I called your attention when the
ecstasy of the first bluebird waked the dawn. All day
you have seen the gold-yellow and blood-red osiers, the
sap-wet maples and spring tracing announcements of her
arrival on the sunny side of the levee.''

The dog found no clew, but he recognized tones he
loved in the suave, easy voice, and his tail beat his sides
in vigorous approval. The man nodded gravely.

``Ah, so! Then you realize this day to be the most
important of all the coming year to me; this hour a solemn
one that influences my whole after life. It is time for
your annual decision on my fate for a twelve-month.