It
soothed him to sleep.
It was good to sleep. He had just undergone more vehement
exertion and excitement than had been his for many a long month.
And he had earned his rest. It was sweet to doze like
this--petted and sung to.
It was not well to exercise body and emotions as he had just
done. Lad realized that, now;--now that it was all over and he
could rest. Rest! Yes, it was good to rest,--to be smoothed and
crooned at. It was thus the Mistress had stroked and crooned to
him, so many thousand times. And always Lad had loved it.
It was well to be at home and to be sinking so pleasantly to
sleep; here at the Place he had guarded since before he could
remember--the Place where he and the Mistress and the Master had
had such splendid times; where he and his long-dead mate, Lady,
had romped; where he had played with and trained his fiery little
son, Wolf; and where every inch of the dear land was alive with
wonderful memories to him.
He had had a full, happy, rich life. And now, in its twilight,
rest was as grateful as action once had been.
The morning air was warm and it was heavy with flower and field,
scents; and with the breath of the forests where so often Lad had
led the tearing run of the collie pack and in whose snowy depths
he once had fought for his life against Wolf and the huge
crossbreed, Rex.
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