tedly and was expressing alarm, suspicion and disapproval.

Albert jerked his ankles out of the way and said "Hello, boy," in as
cheerfully cordial a tone as he could muster at such short notice. The
dog took a step forward, evidently with the idea of always keeping the
ankles within jumping distance, showed a double row of healthy teeth and
growled and barked with renewed violence.

"Nice dog," observed Albert. The nice dog made a snap at the nearest
ankle and, balked of his prey by a frenzied kick of the foot attached to
the ankle, shrieked, snarled and gurgled like a canine lunatic.

"Go home, you ugly brute," commanded the young man, losing patience, and
looking about for a stone or stick. On the top of that knoll the largest
stone was the size of a buckshot and the nearest stick was, to be Irish,
a straw.

"Nice doggie! Nice old boy! Come and be patted! . . . Clear out with
you! Go home, you beast!"

Flatteries and threats were alike in their result. The dog continued to
snarl and growl, darting toward the ankles occasionally. Evidently he
was mustering courage for the attack. Albert in desperation scooped up
a handful of sand. If worst came to worst he might blind the creature
temporarily. What would happen after that was not clear. Unless he might
by a lucky cast fill the dog's interior so full of sand that--like the
famous "Jumping Frog"--it would be too heavy to navigate, he saw no
way of escape from a painful bite, probably more than one. What Captain
Zelotes had formerly called his "Portygee temper" flared up.

"Oh, damn you, clear out!" he shouted, springing to his feet.

From a little way below him; in fact, from behind the next dune, between
himself and the beach, a feminine voice called his name.

"Oh, Mr. Speranza!" it said. "Is it you? I'm so glad!"

Albert turned, but the moment he did so the dog made a dash at his legs,
so he was obliged to turn back again and kick violently.

"Oh, I am so glad it is you," said the voice again. "I was sure it was a
dreadful tramp. Googoo loathes tramps."

As an article of diet that meant, probably. Googoo--if that was the
dog's name--was passionately fond of poets, that was self-evident, and
intended to make a meal of this one, forthwith. He flew at the Speranza
ankles. Albert performed a most undignified war dance, and dashed his
handful of sand into Googoo's open countenance. For a minute or so there
was a lively shindy on top of that knoll. At the end of