But the Master looked out at him in new
interest. The man had used the term, "dark-sable collie"; which,
by the way, was the technical phrase for Lad's coloring. Not one
non-collie-man in a thousand would have known the meaning of the
term; to say nothing of using it by instinct. The Master stared
curiously at the floundering and sputtering speaker.
"Aren't you the manager of the Lochaber Collie Kennels, up at
Beauville?" he asked, speaking loud enough to be heard above the
subsiding din. "I think I've seen you at Westminster and at some
of the local shows. Higham is your name, isn't it?"
"Yes, it is," returned the kennel man, truculent, but surprised
almost into civility. "And this is my assistant, Mister Rice. And
these two young lady friends of ours are--Say!" he broke off,
furiously, remembering his plight and swinging back to rage, as
he began to wade shoreward. "We're going to have the law on you,
friend! Your collie tackled us when we was peaceably-"
"When you were peaceably ignoring this trespass sign of mine?"
finished the Master. "Don't forget that.
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