At this moment Rags, who had been elsewhere occupied, came bounding up, and straightway made a bee-line over to investigate the fish.
“Hi! Stop that!” exclaimed the stranger. “I intend to have that fish for my supper to-night!” and he made a dash for his cherished trophy. But Rags, disconcerted by the sudden movement, was on his guard at once. As the man approached, he sank his teeth into the fish with a growl that was a warning not to be ignored.
“Oh, call him off!” cried the man, anxiously, and Leslie, very much upset, sprang forward to rescue the stranger’s dinner. But Rags saw a chance for a lark; and as times had been rather slow and uninteresting for him of late, he determined to make the most of it. Seizing the fish in a firm grip, he galloped madly up the beach, the two girls wildly pursuing.
There ensued a chase very similar to the one he had led them on that eventful day when he had unearthed the Dragon’s Secret. Never once did he allow them to lay a finger on his prize, though, panting and disgusted, they pursued him hither and yon, sometimes so close that he was well within their reach, sometimes with him far in advance. Occasionally he would lie down with the fish between his paws, fairly inviting them to come and help themselves. Which they had no sooner attempted, than he was up and away again.
The man wisely took no part in the struggle, but stood looking on, encouraging them with half-rueful, half-laughing remarks. At length Leslie had an inspiration. While Rags was standing at the edge of the water, panting from a long and furious run, the fish reposing at his feet, she seized a small board lying near, called to him beguilingly and hurled the board out into the sea.
Here was a game that was even more fascinating. Rags always adored it. Forsaking the much-sought fish, he leaped into the lazy waves and swam out toward his new prize, while the stranger eagerly seized the fish and concealed it in his basket.
“Oh, I’m so sorry!” apologized Leslie. “I know he has spoiled it now. I hope you can forgive us for this dreadful thing.”
“Nothing of the sort!” laughed the stranger. “He hasn’t harmed it a bit, for it was only the head he had hold of. When it’s washed and cooked, that beauty will taste just as good as if it had never had the adventure. My, but that’s a fearsome animal of yours! I wouldn’t want to tackle him. But those English sheep-dogs are noted for being wonderful protectors and very interesting pets besides.”
And just to show that he bore Rags no malice, he picked up the board which the dog had retrieved, and obligingly hurled it into the surf again. Rags ecstatically pursued it once more, dropped it at the man’s feet, and begged for another opportunity. But just before it was launched a third time, he spied a hermit-crab scuttling away almost under his nose, forsook his latest diversion, and was off on another hunt.
The man laughed, dropped the wet, sandy board, dusted off his hands by striking them together, picked up his fishing-kit, hung his camp-stool over his arm, bade the girls good afternoon, and strode away.