Behind the house, these woods ran up to the highroad, a furlong
above. A driveway led twistingly down from the gate-lodge, to the
house. Along this drive, was pacing a dog.
As the girl caught sight of him, the dog halted in his lazy
stroll and stood eagerly erect, his nose upraised, his tulip ears
pricked. Sound or scent, or both, had been arrested by some
unusual presence. And he paused to verify the warning.
As he stood there, an instant, in the shade-flecked driveway, the
girl saw he was a collie; massive, graceful, majestic; in the
full strength of his early prime; his shaggy coat of burnished
mahogany-and-snow glinting back the showers of sun-rays that
filtered down through the leaves.
Before the watching girl could take further note of him, the
dog's aspect of tense listening merged into certainty. With no
further shadow of doubt as to direction, he set off at a sweeping
run past the house and toward the point.
He ran with head down; and with tawny ruff abristle. There was
something in his lithe gallop that was as ominous as it was
beautiful.
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