s as martial music to Lady. The speed promised exhilarating
sport. Her trot merged into a headlong run; and she dashed out into the
road.

The runabout was a bare fifty yards ahead of her, and it was coming on
with a speed which shook even Lady's excitement-craving nerves. Here,
evidently, was a playmate which it would be safer to chase than to
confront head-on.

It was at this juncture, by the way, that Lad lurched forward from the
rear seat and that the Mistress pointed in terror at the endangered
collie.

Lady, for once overawed by speed, leaped to one side of the road. Not
far, but leaving ample space for the driver to miss her by at least a
yard. He had honked loudly, at sight of her. But, he had abated not an
atom of his fifty-mile-an-hour pace.

Whether the man was rattled by the collie's antics,--whether he acted
in sudden rage at her for startling him, whether he belonged to the
filthy breed of motorist who recites chucklingly the record of his
kills,--he did not hold his midroad course.

Instead,--still without checking speed,--he veered his machine slightly
to the right; aiming the flying juggernaut directly at the
mischievously-poised little collie who danced in imagined safety at the
road-edge.

The rest was horror.

Merciful in its mercilessness, the hard-driven right front wheel smote
the silky golden head with a force that left no terrible instant of
fear or of agony. More lucky by far than the myriad innocent and
friendly dogs that are left daily to scream out their lives writhingly
in the wake of speeding motor-cars, Lady was killed at a single stroke.

The fluffy golden body was hurled far in front of its slayer; and the
wheels struck it a second time. The force of the impact caused the
runabout to skid, perilously; and the youthful driver brought it to a
jarring and belated halt. Springing to the ground, he rolled the dead
collie's impeding body into the shallow wayside ditch, clear of his
wheels. Then, scrambling aboard again, he jammed down the accelerator.

Lad had made a flying leap over the door of the Master's car. He struck
ground with a force which crumpled his healing right shoulder under
him. Heedless of the pain, he hurled himself forward, on three legs, at
an incredible speed; straight for the runabout. His great head low, his
formidable teeth agleam beneath drawn-back lips, his soft eyes
a-smolder with red flame, Lad charged.

But, for all his burst of speed, he was too late