The dog
was a collie; noble of aspect, massive of coat.
But that same coat vied with the setting sun in garish brilliancy
of hue. Never since the birth of time, had such a beast been seen
by mortals. From the tip of his aristocratic nose to the plume of
his sweeping tail, the collie was one blazingly vivid mass of
crimson! He fairly irradiated flaring red lights. His coat was
wet and it hung stickily to his lean sides, as if he had just
come from a swim. And it was tinted like a chromo of a prairie
fire.
Following more slowly to the veranda's edge, Colonel Osbourne had
begun a reply to the Mistress's half-finished speech of gratitude
for his hospitality.
"I was only too glad to be of service," said he. "That's a grand
dog you have. It was a real pleasure to help in his grooming.
Besides, I profited by it. You see, my Lochaber King was
quartered in a muddy corner under the veranda. So I took the
liberty of telling my man, Rice, to put him in that comfortable
big stall of Lad's. I am the chief gainer by the--"
His courtly speech became a gurgle of horror.
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