ught sight
of strangers he would at once leave the sheep and run home by a
circuitous route. One such instance Millar particularly mentioned.

He had collected a lot of old ewes one night, but had utterly failed,
even with "Yarrow's" help, to get them down a steep hill and across
Tweed in the dark. Accordingly, as usual when day broke, he left the
ewes in charge of the dog, and by low-lying ways, where he would be
little likely to attract attention, he betook himself home. From a spot
at some distance Millar looked back and for a time watched "Yarrow," in
dead silence, but with marvellous energy, trying to bustle the ewes into
the river. Time and again he would get them to the edge of the pool and
attempt to "rush" them in; time and again he failed, and the ewes broke
back--for of all created creatures no breathing thing is so obstinate as
an old ewe. Finally, the dog succeeded in forcing two into the water,
but no power on earth could drive the others farther than the brink, and
the only result was that by their presence they effectually prevented
those already in the water from leaving it, and in the end the two were
drowned. At last "Yarrow" seemed to realise that he was beaten, and that
to persevere farther would be dangerous, and he left the ewes and
started for home. The sheep were seen later that day making their way
home, all raddled with new keel with which Millar had marked them in a
small "stell" which he had passed when the ewes were first collected.

"Faking" the brands, Millar confessed, used to be done by him and his
master on a Sunday, in the vault of a neighbouring old peel tower, and
at a time when everyone else was at church. It was easy enough, without
exciting suspicion, to run the sheep into the yards on a Saturday night,
and thence to the vaults, and no one would ever see the work of
altering the buists going on, for "Yarrow" sat outside, and always, by
barking, gave timely notice of the approach of any undesirable person.

The report was current in the country after the executions that the dog
was hanged at the same time as his master, a rumour probably originated
by the hawking about Edinburgh streets of a broadside, entitled the
"Last Dying Speech and Confession of the Dog Yarrow." In reality
"Yarrow" was sold to a farmer in the neighbourhood of Peebles, but,
strange to say, though as a thief he had been so supernaturally clever,
as a dog employed in honest pursuits his intelligence was much b