But--but oh, it WAS Laddie! He--he was
fastened, or caught, in some way. I know he was. Why, I could
see him struggle to--"
"Come on!" broke in the Master, hustling into his mackinaw.
"Unless you'll stay here, while I--"
"No," she protested. "I'm going. And I'm going because I'm
thinking of the same thing that's troubling you. I'm thinking of
those forest fires and of what you said about the wind changing
and--"
"Come on!" repeated the Master; starting for the garage.
Which shows how maudlinly foolish two otherwise sane people can
be; when they are lucky enough to own such a dog as Sunnybank
Lad. Naturally, the right course, at so cold and late an hour of
the autumn night, and after a long day of packing and motoring
and unpacking, was to go to bed; and to trust to luck that the
wise old collie would find his way back again. Instead, the two
set off on a twenty-mile wildgoose chase, with worried faces and
fast-beating hearts. It did not occur to either of them to stay
at home; or to send someone else on the long, frosty drive in
search of the missing dog.
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