"Dogs vary."
"Of course, of course. There's no rule says two of any one breed have to be alike. Couple of years ago, over beyond Taylorville, we had to get a pack that was running wild and, believe it or not, there was a Boston bull with them. Now who'd think a Boston bull—What's that?"
"I—I didn't hear anything."
"Well, I did. Ah! There it is again!"
A second time, and unmistakably, Tammie's distinctive whine sounded at the back door. Ted's heart plummeted to his toes and his throat went dry. He was about to rise and let Tammie in—the only thing he could do—but he was forestalled by Jack Callahan.
"There he is. He heard you, all right. I'll let him in."
He walked to the back door ... opened it. Ted hoped his gasp was not as loud as it seemed. Wearing no pack, Tammie came sedately in, greeted Callahan with a wag of his tail and tripped across the floor to sit down beside his master. The boy bent his head to conceal ecstatic eyes. Poker-faced Callahan showed nothing of what he must be feeling.
"Just as handsome as I remember him!" he said admiringly. "That dog's a real credit to you, Ted!"
"He has just one little flaw," Ted said gravely. "Sometimes he thinks he sees things he never saw at all."
Callahan grinned engagingly. "Some people make that mistake, too. Especially when there's deep shadow. How are you making out, Ted?"