“Tam!” he said, quietly. “Tam! Old friend!”
The exhausted victor lurched dizzily about, at sound of the voice. Catching sight of Trask, he trembled all over.
He took a dazed step towards Frayne. Then, with something queerly like a human sob, the collie sprang forward; and gambolled weakly about the man; licking Trask’s feet and hands; springing up in a groggy effort to kiss his face; patting his master’s chest with eager forepaws; crying aloud in an ecstasy of joy at the reunion.
Then, all at once, he seemed to remember he was a staid and dignified middle-aged dog and not a hoodlum puppy. Ceasing his unheard-of demonstrations, he stood close beside Frayne; looking up into Trask’s eyes in silent worship.
“You’ve done a grand night’s work, Tam,” said Frayne, seeking to steady his own voice. “And your hurts need bathing. Come home.”
His plumed tail proudly wagging, his splendid head aloft, Tam-o’-Shanter turned and led the way to the house he loved.
THE SUNNYBANK COLLIES
HERE, at “Sunnybank,”—at Pompton Lakes, in New Jersey,—we raise thoroughbred collies. For many years we have been breeding them. For many years longer, I have been studying them.