enly he identified Bobby as the snappy little ruffian
that had chased the cat and bitten his shins, and Auld Jock as the
scandalized shepherd who had rebuked the dog so bitterly. He related the
incident with gusto.

"The auld man cried oot on the misbehavin' tyke to haud 'is gab. Syne,
ye ne'er saw the bit dog's like for a bairn that'd haen a lickin'. He'd
'a' gaen into a pit, gin there'd been ane, an' pu'd it in ahind 'im.
I turned 'em baith oot, an' told 'em no' to come back. Eh, man, it's
fearsome hoo ilka body comes to a kirkyaird, toes afore 'im, in a long
box."

Mr. Brown was sobered by this grim thought and then, in his turn, he
confessed a slip to this tolerant man of the world. "The wee deil o' a
sperity dog nipped me so I let oot an aith."

"Ay, that's Bobby. He would no' be afraid of onything with hide or hair
on it. Man, the Skye terriers go into dens of foxes and wildcats, and
worry bulls till they tak' to their heels. And Bobby's sagacious by the
ordinar'." He thought intently for a moment, and then spoke naturally,
and much as Auld Jock himself might have spoken to the dog.

"Whaur are ye, Bobby? Come awa' oot, laddie!"

Instantly the little dog stood before him like some conjured ghost. He
had slipped from under the slab on which they were sitting. It lay
so near the ground, and in such a mat of dead grass, that it had
not occurred to them to look for him there. He came up to Mr. Traill
confidently, submitted to having his head patted, and looked pleadingly
at the caretaker. Then, thinking he had permission to do so, he lay down
on the mound. James Brown dropped his pipe.

"It's maist michty!" he said.

Mr. Traill got to his feet briskly. "I'll just tak' the dog with me,
Mr. Brown. On marketday I'll find the farmer that owns him and send
him hame. As you say, a kirkyard's nae place for a dog to be living
neglected. Come awa', Bobby."

Bobby looked up, but, as he made no motion to obey, Mr. Traill stooped
and lifted him.

From sheer surprise at this unexpected move the little dog lay still a
moment on the man's arm. Then, with a lithe twist of his muscular body
and a spring, he was on the ground, trembling, reproachful for the
breach of faith, but braced for resistance.

"Eh, you're no' going?" Mr. Traill put his hands in his pockets, looked
down at Bobby admiringly, and sighed. "There's a dog after my ain heart,
and he'll have naething to do with me. He has a mind of his ain. I'll
just have