"The Scotch are great people for dog stories, and a good many of their tales are about collies. Bob, Son of Battle, was an old-fashioned collie. Many of the anecdotes that are told as true stories deal with the breed's wonderful sagacity in caring for sheep. There was the Ettrick Shepherd's famous collie Sirrah, for example. He could undoubtedly do amazing things with sheep. One night something scared the lambs, and they started off for the hills, dividing into three groups. The shepherd called his dog and his assistant and started out in the hope of rounding up at least one of the groups before morning. But the night was dark and the hills a wilderness, and the two men were at last forced to give up the attempt until daylight. At dawn, when they started out again, what was their astonishment to see Sirrah coming in with the lost lambs—not one group only, but the whole flock. How he managed to get one group after the other, no one could ever say, but between midnight and dawn he rounded them all up alone, and not one was missing.
"This herding instinct is very strong in the collie. I once met a modern collie in Des Moines, Iowa, who, because he had no sheep to attend to, busied himself with the chickens, and he would never consider his day's work finished until he had carefully herded all the Rhode Island Reds into one corner of the poultry yard, and all the Plymouth Rocks into another.
"Cases are on record of collies that were taught to steal for their masters, by systematically driving off sheep from neighboring flocks. Many stories deal with the collie's intelligence in fetching help to a man or animal in danger. One collie brought in a flock of half-frozen hens, one by one, that had strayed away from the barnyard and got caught in a blizzard. He carried them tenderly in his mouth, depositing them in a row before the open fire. Another collie brought home a strayed horse by the bridle.
"Shepherd collies are wonderful with the sheep, but the so-called house collie is often more generally wise and adaptable. Hector, a son of Sirrah, was such a dog, and his master, a Mr. Hogg of Ettrick, has told many amusing stories about him. He was always getting into mischief, and Mr. Hogg's mother vowed he should never go visiting with her, for, as she put it, 'he was always fighting with other dogs, singing music, or breeding some uproar or other.' But with all that, he was so intelligent, and seemed to understand so many things in advance, that she used to say, 'I think the beast is no canny.'
"His master's father was one of the church elders of the place, and at one time accepted the post of precentor. He knew only one tune well—'St. Paul's'—and this he used to give out twice each Sunday. To save the congregation from too great a dose of 'St. Paul's,' the son agreed to relieve him of his duties. But here Hector, accustomed to his master's company on Sundays, objected. He would follow him to church, and when he heard his master's voice inside, he would raise his in the churchyard, much to the amusement of the shepherds and the country lassies. 'Sometimes,' said Mr. Hogg, 'there would be only the two of us joining in the hymn.' The result was that he was forced to resign, and the church was obliged to carry on as best it could with the old precentor and 'St. Paul's.'
"Hector exhibited strange motives and peculiar logic sometimes. He was jealous of the house cat and hated her, but he never touched her or threatened to do her any harm. He merely kept a suspicious eye on her, pointing her as a setter points a bird. He used to join in family prayers, and just before the final 'Amen,' he would leap to his feet and dash madly about, barking loudly. It was easy to understand how he knew when the 'Amen' was approaching, but why the excitement that followed? 'I found out by accident,' wrote Mr. Hogg. 'As we were kneeling there, he thought we were all pointing Pussy, and he wanted to be among the first at the death.'
"Next we come to Rover's breed. Old English sheepdog is its official name, but I think it might better be called the bob-tailed sheepdog to distinguish it from the original smooth sheepdog of England. In many respects it is quite unlike any other breed that comes from England. He was formerly used by English drovers as a cattle dog, but we know little of his history. The bob-tail is the hairiest of the large dogs and one of the most striking of all breeds in appearance. Some of the puppies are born tailless, while others have their tails removed within a few days after birth. The bob-tail is an active, swift, intelligent dog and, as you know if you have watched Rover, very playful and very expressive with his paws. Having no tail to wag, he wags his whole hind quarters to let you know he is pleased or friendly.
"The German shepherd dog has had a remarkable boom since its introduction here in 1912. It is an old breed in Germany and its appearance strongly suggests wolf blood in its ancestry. Originally a shepherd's dog, and still used as such, this breed has shown itself remarkably adaptable to police dog work and has been used in the war more than any other breed. The German shepherd dog is not as gently affectionate as some breeds, but is intelligent, active, alert, brave, and loyal.
"I think I should also speak of the Belgian sheepdog, partly because we are all interested in Belgium these days, and partly because we have begun to get a few of these dogs over here. They are said to be even cleverer police dogs than the Germans. A few have been successfully used over here by police departments of New York and vicinity, and a few fanciers have become interested in the Groenendaele variety and have exhibited specimens in the Westminster show."
"What do police dogs do?" inquired Herbie Pierson.