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Updated: August 6, 2024
Weather and sea had bronzed him to the hue of an Arab. Apparently, he had sighted the dog, and had run his boat ashore to capture the stray animal. He handled his prize none too gently, and his management was calling forth all the collie's resentment.
Keen eyes saw every moving thing, from the bees in the bluebells to the slow fishing-boats far out at sea; sharp ears that were cocked like a collie's heard every chirp and trill and rustle, and a nose that understood everything was holding up every vagrant breeze and searching it for its message.
"Well, bring it up here to-morrow mornin'. And, say, swipe a sogun for me. I near froze last night." Collie's brows drew together. "I'll bring the money, sure! but I can't swipe no blanket, even for you. The boss thinks I'm square, and so does she. I'll bring tobacco and papers. Got any grub?" "Well, some. I ain't exactly livin' on sagebrush and scenery yet.
But don't let me keep you from breakfast." "Breakfast, eh? That's right! I almost forgot it, talkin' to you. Collie's got the coffee to boilin'. No, you ain't keepin' us from our breakfast any that you'd notice. It would take a whole reg'ment of Rurales to keep us from a breakfast if we seen one runnin' around loose without its pa or ma." Louise Lacharme did not smile. This was too real.
Chum obeyed, but with evident uneasiness. His odd surroundings were getting on the collie's nerves. Link bent over him, under pretense of giving him a farewell rub with the brush. "It's all right, Chummie!" he crooned soothingly. "It's all RIGHT! I'm here. An' nobody's goin' to bother you none. You're a-helpin' me win that hundred.
Syne he straughtened himsel' up afore the gless, an', touchin' the ruif wi the point o' his stick, he says, "Viktory, viktory! Bannockburn is wun. Hooreh! Hooreh!" Juist at this meenit there was a rare like's fifty thunderbolts had burst in Kowper Collie's auld-iron yaird. You never heard sic a soond.
But, from the Mistress's manner, he saw he had made a wonderful hit with her by what he had done. And his tail thumped ecstatically against the seat as he cuddled very close to her side. At home, there was more praise and petting; this time from both the Mistress and the Master. And the Master bathed and patched the insignificant bullet-scratch on the collie's foreleg.
"Didn't you know I come to kill you?" "Yes yes! I've seen that. It's awful!... I never harmed you.... Don't kill me! Let me live, Wade. I swear to God I'll I'll never do it again.... For dad's sake for Collie's sake don't kill me!" "I'm Hell-Bent Wade!... You wouldn't listen to them when they wanted to tell you who I am!"
She had known better than the blundering gods. All her suspicions were justified. Here was the ancient marauder up to his old tricks again. The groom escaped into the stables, and White Fang backed away before Collie's wicked teeth, or presented his shoulder to them and circled round and round. But Collie did not give over, as was her wont, after a decent interval of chastisement.
But Chum noted it. And with a collie's odd sixth sense he knew this intruder did not like him. Not that her aversion troubled Chum at all; but it puzzled him. People as a rule were effusively eager to make friends with Chum. And being ultraconservative, like the best type of collie he found their handling and other attentions annoying. He had taken a liking to Dorcas, at sight.
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