who was so homely of face
and form but so true blue in temper and trust.

"Life, to a dog," I went on, "really means devotion to man, doesn't
it?"

"What are you driving at, anyway?" asked Dinky-Dunk.

"I was just wondering," I said as I sat staring into Bobs' eyes, "how
strange it would be if, after all, God was really a dog, the loving
and faithful Watch-Dog of His universe!"

"Please don't be blasphemous," Dinky-Dunk coldly remarked.

"But I'm not blasphemous," I tried to tell him. "And I was never more
serious in my life. There's even something sacred about it, once you
look at it in the right way. Just think of the Shepherd-Dog of the
Stars, the vigilant and affectionate Watcher who keeps the wandering
worlds in their folds! That's not one bit worse than the lamb idea,
only we've got so used to the lamb it doesn't shock us into attention
any more. Why, just look at these eyes of Bobs right now. There's more
nobility and devotion and trust and love in them than was ever in all
the eyes of all the lambs that ever frisked about the fields and
sheep-folds from Dan to Beersheba!"

"Your theory, I believe, is entertained by the Igorrotes," remarked
Dinky-Dunk as he made a pretense of turning back to his
tractor-pamphlet. "The Igorrotes and other barbarians," he repeated,
so as to be sure the screw was being turned in the proper direction.

"And now I know why she said the more she knew about men the better
she liked dogs," I just as coldly remarked, remembering Madame de
Stael. "And I believe you're jealous of poor old Bobs just because he
loves me more than you do."

Dinky-Dunk put down his pamphlet. Then he called Bobs over to his side
of the table. But Bobs, I noticed, didn't go until I'd nodded
approval. So Dinky-Dunk took his turn at sitting with Bobs' nose in
his hand and staring down into the fathomless orbs that stared up at
him.

"You'll never get a lady, me lud, to look up at you like that," I told
him.

"Perhaps they have," retorted Dinky-Dunk, with his face slightly
averted.

"And having done so in the past, there's the natural chance that
they'll do so in the future," I retorted, making it half a question
and half a statement. But he seemed none too pleased at that thrust,
and he didn't even answer me when I told him I supposed I was his
Airedale, because they say an Airedale is a one-man dog.

"Then don't at least get distemper," observed my Kaikobad, very
quietly, over the top of his trac