"Good gracious!" he exclaimed. "There was that chicken, and I never saw it at all!"
"No," Collie Dog replied; "you would never guess where they go to when their mother gives the alarm. And then she runs off and tempts you to kill her. She hobbles and cries and lies down to die right at your feet. My own mother, who was a Scottish noblewoman, being an Argyle, used to say that she never saw such a wonderfully devoted mother as Mrs. Bob-White."
With a gay farewell to Mr. Partridge, the sprightly dog was off. And Setter Pup went racing after him. For there was much to see, and the sun was already clear and golden. The grass shone in waves of green, and as the dew dried there came the loveliest odors of wild honeysuckle and clover. It was a time to be gay, and Collie Dog did not want to have his young friend depressed. There were some wonderful mud-holes to visit, where they could get just as cool and as dirty as they pleased.
"And when the mud dries off," Collie Dog explained, as they plunged through the bushes, "your coat will shine as though it had been brushed."
It was a wonderful romp that they had in the mud-hole, deep in the swampy meadow, under the blackberry vines. And when they came out, disgracefully dirty, to dry themselves under a China-berry tree, they were rolling over and over on the grass, when a funny little voice called out from the branches overhead:
"Hello, Mr. Dog!"
Setter Pup jumped to his feet; but Collie Dog only looked up into the tree.
"'Morning, friend 'Possum; and how's your family to-day?"
"Oh, they're doing fine. Twelve of them and all getting plump. We like your turnip patch very much."
Then he laughed; a squeaky little laugh it was; and Collie Dog seemed to enjoy the joke too, for he sat up with a smile.