ege. He was at the top of bliss in a
mad run over the campus. With streaming ruff and tail he would rush on
like Lelaps, the wild hound of Cephalus on the trail of the monstrous
fox sent by a slighted goddess to harass the Thebans and, like Lelaps
when the Olympians chose to make the chase eternal by turning both dog
and fox to stone, Sigurd would come to a sudden stop on the brow of a
hill, standing out against the sky like a collie statue poised for
running.

Joy-of-Life could cross the broad meadow almost as lightly and swiftly
as he and their morning pilgrimages to chapel were expeditions of high
glory. There were hundreds of girls abroad at that hour and often
Sigurd would wheel from the path and dash jubilantly toward any figure
that took his fancy, confident of welcome. But if the individual
chanced to be a new freshman, not yet acquainted with the college
dignitaries, she might meet his advances with fear or annoyance or a
still more cutting indifference. Then Sigurd would droop those
expectant ears of his and return with dignity to his forsaken comrade.
If his greeting were properly reciprocated, he would ramp joyously upon
his fellow student and prance about her, leaping to the height of her
shoulders in his ecstasy of good-will.

His favorite laboratory was Lake Waban. In the summer afternoons he
would tease to have us both escort him up for his swim and if on the
way we tried to part company, one or the other turning aside for a more
pressing errand, Sigurd would herd us with ancestral art, jumping upon
the deserter and gently pushing her back, or standing in the path to
block her progress, protesting all the while with coaxing whines, with
expostulary barks and with all manner of collie eloquence. If we
walked, on the other hand, close together, absorbed in talk, he would
jealously push in between us, as he often did when we were having a
fireside tete-a-tete or bidding each other good night. He wished us to
understand that Sigurd was the one to be loved and that all affections
not directed toward Sigurd were superfluous. But when we both accepted
his invitation to the lake, the three hundred acres of the college park
hardly sufficed for his antics. Curveting about us till he seemed to be
ten collies at once, flashing in ever widening circles over the level
and over the slopes, bounding upon us with a storm of gleeful sneezes,
he would lead the way to Sigurd's Tub, as he considered it. If some one
fell in