"There are limits."
"Of course. Of course there are. A dog's a dog. But I'll bet," Callahan looked squarely at Ted, "that Tammie would even go find your father if you told him to."
"You're sure?"
"Well, who could be sure? But I admire trained dogs no end and yours is the best I ever saw. Call him back, will you? I'd like to see him again."
"I—" Ted hesitated and hated himself because Callahan noticed his hesitation. "I don't know if I can. Tammie takes some pretty long rambles at night and he may be out of hearing."
"You'll have Loring on your tail if he bothers game."
"Tammie doesn't bother anything unless he's ordered to do it."
Callahan said admiringly, "That's where training comes in. This could even be a story!"
"What could?"
"Why, your dad laying out in the Mahela. He doesn't have any grub except the load he cooked the night Loring and I were here—and wasn't I the dope not to see through that? He needs about everything. You can't take it to him because you could be followed. But you have a big, strong, well-trained dog. You, oh you might even make a pack for him. Then you load the pack and send it to your dad. Who's going to follow Tammie? Get it?"