“Lady, right.”
Without hesitation the dog turned right, the tawny body pressed almost against the man’s left leg. They were off now, and Dr. Stone’s body bent slightly from the waist toward the dog, while his right hand lightly swung a cane. He might have been gifted with sight, so rapidly did he walk, so complete was his confidence in his four-footed guide. Joe had to stretch his legs to keep up with them. They went past fields and orchards, fences and tangles of wild grape. The doctor’s cane, swinging along, came in contact at last, with a wall of hedge.
“Kent’s place, Joe?”
“Yes, sir.” Joe’s throat throbbed with a twitching pulse.
A telephone repair truck was in the driveway. The dog slowed, and swung aside, pulling on the leash and changing his course. Without hesitation Dr. Stone followed the pull, and the dog led him around and past the truck. They appeared, in their movements, to be one.
The boy said: “I like to watch him do that.”
“He’s my eyes, Joe. Kent’s car?”
“No, sir; a telephone truck. I don’t see his car.”
“Not back yet,” said the doctor, and whistled soundlessly. They roamed the grounds. The dog at a rapid pace, took the man along one side of the house and deftly manoeuvered him around every tree and bush. In the rear a maid hung a sodden garment on the line and, after a frightened glance at them, disappeared into the house. The wind blew across the valley and the wet sleeve of a coat fluttered and swung toward Dr. Stone’s face. He reached out a groping hand, and found the sleeve, and brought it close to his sightless eyes as though trying to pierce a veil of darkness and make out the pattern. Bees droned through a blooming lilac and they moved around to the other side of the house.
“Joe, is there a pine tree on the place?”