Brice peered at the animal in astonishment, seeking to
classify it in his mind. But the collie needed no effort of
that sort. At first sight and scent, he knew well to what
tribe the furry gray newcomer belonged. And, with a
trumpet-bark of joyous challenge, he dashed at it.

The creature fluffed itself to double its former size. Then,
spitting and yowling, it ran up the nearer of the two
gumbo-limbo trees. The dog reached the foot of the tree a
fraction of a second too late to seize the fox-like tail of
his prey. And he circled wildly, barking at the top of his
lungs and making futile little running leaps up the shining
trunk of the tree.

As well hope for secrecy after the firing of a cannon as after
such a fanfare of barking! Gavin Brice ran forward to grasp
the rackety collie. As he did so, he was vaguely aware that a
slender and white-clad form was crossing the lawn, at a run,
toward the tree.

At the path-end, he and the figure came face to face. Though
the other's back was to the fading light, Gavin
knew her for the girl he had seen in the Australian pine lane,
at Miami, that day.

"Pardon me," he began, trying in vain to make himself audible
through the collie's frantic barking. "I found your dog, and
I have brought him back to you. We--"