Thus did the Master romp with Lad, when the
flannel doll was the prize of their game. And Lad loved such
races.
Yes, the stranger was accepting the invitation. The moment he had
crawled out on the veranda he reached down for the bag. As it was
not where he thought he had left it, he swung his groping hand
forward in a half-circle, his fingers sweeping the floor.
Make that enticing motion, directly in front of a playful collie
pup; specially if he has something he doesn't want you to take
from him;--and watch the effect.
Instantly, Lad was athrill with the spirit of the game. In one
scurrying backward jump, he was off the veranda and on the lawn,
tail vibrating, eyes dancing; satchel held tantalizingly towards
its would-be possessor.
The light sound of his body touching ground reached the man.
Reasoning that the sweep of his own arm had somehow knocked the
bag off the porch, he ventured off the edge of the veranda and
flashed a swathed ray of his pocket light along the ground in
search of it.
The flashlight's lens was cleverly muffled; in a way to give
forth but a single subdued finger of illumination.
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