To his ears came a far-off muffled wail;--a wail which held more
than unhappiness;--a wail which vibrated with real terror. And he
knew the voice for Lady's.
To his sensitive nostrils, through the intervening distance and
the obstructing walls and windows, drifted a faint reek of smoke.
Now, the smoke-smell, by itself, meant nothing whatever to Lad.
All evening a trace of it had hung in the air; from the brush
fire. And, in any case, this whiff was too slight to have
emanated from the house or from any spot near the house. Yet,
taken together with Lady's cry of fear--
Lad crossed to the front door, and scratched imperiously at it.
The locked door did not yield to his push. Too sensible to keep
on at a portal he could not open, he ran upstairs, to the closed
door of the Master's room. There, again he scratched; this time
harder and more loudly. Twice and thrice he scratched; whining
under his breath.
At last the deep-slumbering Master heard him. Rousing himself,
and still three-quarters asleep, he heard not only the scratching
and the whimper but, in the distance, Lady's wail of fear.
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