"Barklo ought to come home" said Guardie.
"Who is Barklo?" I asked curiously.
"Children's dog—I haven't time to tell—ask someone else—pigs are wandering from trail," and off he dashed.
"Who is Barklo?" I repeated.
It was very early in the morning, and away up on the hillside where I was standing there wasn't a creature in sight, but Lammie-noo, who was lying down and eating grass in a sideways fashion. His leg was better, but he still put on great airs, for he liked the children to wait on him and pity him.
"Ba, ba," he said in his silly way, "Barklo's a dog—a Hairdale."
"Not Hairdale," I said, "Airedale."
"Just as you like," he replied amiably; "he's very hairy. He's visiting now."
"Was he the watch-dog?" I asked.