was not yet in the winter or even the Indian Summer of his beautiful
life. But, at least, he had strolled into its early autumn.

And this, be it well remembered, is the curse which Stepmother Nature
placed upon The Dog, when he elected to turn his back on his own kind,
and to become the only one of the world's four-footed folk to serve Man
of his own accord. To punish the Dog for this abnormality, Nature
decreed that his life should begin to fail, almost as soon as it had
reached the glory of its early prime.

A dog is not at his best, in mind or in body, until he has passed his
third year. And, before he nears the ten-year mark, he has begun to
decline. At twelve or thirteen, he is as decrepit as is the average
human of seventy. And not one dog in a hundred can be expected to live
to fourteen.

(Lad, by some miracle, was destined to endure past his own sixteenth
birthday; a record seldom equaled among his race.)

And so to our story:--

When the car and the loaded equipment-truck drew up at the door, that
golden October day, Lad forgot his advancing years. In a moment, he was
once more a puppy. For he knew what it all meant. It did not need the
advent of the Mistress and the Master from the house, in rough outing
clothes, nor the piling of duffle-bags and the like into the car's
tonneau, to send Laddie into a transport of trumpeting and gyrations.
The first sight and sniff of the tents, rolled tight in the truck, had
done that. Lad understood. Lad always understood.

This gear meant the annual fall camping trip in the back reaches of the
Ramapo Mountains, some twenty-odd miles north of the Place; the
fortnight of tent-life, of shooting, of fishing, of bracingly chill
nights and white-misted dawns and of drowsily happy campfire evenings.
It meant all manner of adventure and fun for Lad.

Now, on a fishing jaunt, the presence of any kind of dog is a
liability; not an asset. A thousand dog-fancier fishermen can attest to
that. And, when humans are hunting any sort of game, a collie is
several degrees worse than worthless.

Thus, Lad's usefulness, as a member of the party, was likely to be
negligible;--except in the matter of guarding camp and as an all-round
pal for the two campers.

Yet, as on former years, there was no question of leaving him at home.
Where the Mistress and the Master went, he went, too; whenever such a
thing were possible. He was their chum. And they would have missed him
as much as he wou