The
Master, remembering his wife's hint, and certain now of Lad's
ability to complete the rescue, stood waiting on the
string-piece. Once, for a second, Wefers' eyes met his; but they
were averted in queer haste.
As Lad tugged his burden beneath the stringpiece, the Master bent
down and gripped the sodden wet shoulders of the constable. One
none-too-gentle heave, and Wefers was lying in a panting and
dripping heap on the clean dock. Lad, relieved of his heavy load,
swam leisurely around to shore. It had been a delightfully
thrilling day, thus far, for the collie. But he was just a bit
tired.
By the time the dazed constable was able to sit up and peer
owlishly into the unloving faces of the Mistress and the Master,
Lad had shaken himself thrice and was pattering across the dock
toward the group. From the two humans, Wefers' gaze shifted to
the oncoming dog. Then he glanced back at the sullen depths of
lake water beyond the string-piece. Then he let his head sink on
his chest. For perhaps a whole minute, he sat thus; his eyes
shut, his breath still fast and hysterical.
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