Gregory said, "Poor fellow, then!" and the collie at once did something perfectly awful: he growled.
Gregory had no courage left. His tongue and lips refused to obey him. He felt his knees turning to water.
How he wished he had let Mary come too! Dogs always liked her. Why was it that dogs liked some people and not others? he asked himself. Ridiculous! No one liked dogs better than he, if this ass of a collie only knew it.
Meanwhile, the collie, still growling, drew nearer, and Gregory felt himself pricking all over. Where would it bite him first? he wondered.
But just as he had given up all hope, a voice called out sharply, "Caesar, come here!" and the collie turned and ran to where a tall, red-faced man was standing.
"What do you want?" the man then said to Gregory, with equal sharpness. "You're trespassing."
Gregory was frankly crying now—with relief; but he pulled himself together and said he wanted to see the farmer.
"I'm the farmer," said the man. "What is it?"
Gregory explained what he had come for.
"No," said the farmer, "not on my land."