“Where’d you pick up Doc Cornby’s dog?” asked Colonel Flesher, paying Jim his two dollars.
“Oh, I just recruited him on the way,” said Jim very off-handedly.
“Well, it’s a mystery to me how you get these animals to work for you so easily,” said the colonel, shaking his head. “I’ll have another job for you in a few days.”
Thanking the stock buyer for the money, Jim climbed back on his horse and whistled to the dog. He felt it was only fair to return the spaniel to his home after the assistance the dog had given him. Arriving at the bungalow, Jim dismounted and walked up to the door. His knock was answered by a very pleasant-faced woman.
“How do you do, Mrs. Cornby,” he said politely. “I brought your dog back. He was helping me drive cattle.”
“I saw what was happening from the window,” said Mrs. Cornby, smiling. “It was a good thing Horace was here to help you. That steer was heading straight for my flowers. If it had ruined my prize begonias, I would never have forgiven you.”
“He’s certainly a smart dog. He was a big help.”
“He spent the last summer on my brother’s farm. Bert taught him to go after the cows each evening, so I guess he enjoys helping herd cattle.”
Mrs. Cornby had solved the mystery of why the dog had helped herd so intelligently, but Jim was slightly disappointed. He would have preferred to think that animals instinctively knew what he wanted.
“If he likes to drive cattle, I’d be glad to take him along the next time I bring some in,” volunteered Jim.