r in a cottage I knew. Jack threw himself down on the floor and
shared my meal, then made friends with the fisherman's wife and got a
second meal of saffron cake which, being a Cornish dog, he thoroughly
enjoyed.

The second half of the day was very much like the first, altogether a
blank day for me, although a very full one for Jack, who had filled a
vast number of wild creatures with terror, furiously hunted a hundred or
more, and succeeded in killing two or three.

Jack was impossible, and would never be allowed to follow me again. So
I sternly said and so thought, but when the time came and I found him
waiting for me his brown eyes bright with joyful anticipation, I could
not scowl at him and thunder out No! I could not help putting myself in
his place. For here he was, a dog of boundless energy who must exercise
his powers or be miserable, with nothing in the village for him except
to witness the not very exciting activities of others; and that, I
discovered, had been his life. He was mad to do something, and because
there was nothing for him to do his time was mostly spent in going about
the village to keep an eye on the movements of the people, especially of
those who did the work, always with the hope that his services might
be required in some way by some one. He was grateful for the smallest
crumbs, so to speak. House-work and work about the house--milking,
feeding the pigs and so on--did not interest him, nor would he attend
the labourers in the fields. Harvest time would make a difference; now
it was ploughing, sowing, and hoeing, with nothing for Jack. But he was
always down at the fishing cove to see the boats go out or come in and
join in the excitement when there was a good catch. It was still better
when the boat went with provisions to the lighthouse, or to relieve the
keeper, for then Jack would go too and if they would not have him he
would plunge into the waves and swim after it until the sails were
hoisted and it flew like a great gull from him and he was compelled to
swim back to land. If there was nothing else to do he would go to the
stone quarry and keep the quarrymen company, sharing their dinner
and hunting away the cows and donkeys that came too near. Then at
six o'clock he would turn up at the cricket-field, where a few young
enthusiasts would always attend to practise after working hours.

Living this way Jack was, of course, known to everybody--as well known
as the burly parson, the tal