Further Adventures of Lad | Page 6

to sleep
the night through. It is too much to ask. And Lad's waking hours at
night were times of desolation and of utter boredom. True, he might
have consoled himself, as does many a lesser pup, with voicing his
woes in a series of melancholy howls. That, in time, would have drawn
plenty of human attention to the lonely youngster; even if the attention
were not wholly flattering.
But Lad did not belong to the howling type. When he was unhappy, he
waxed silent. And his sorrowful eyes took on a deeper woe. By the way,
if there is anything more sorrowful than the eyes of a collie pup that has
never known sorrow, I have yet to see it.
No, Lad could not howl. And he could not hunt for squirrels. For these
enemies of his were not content with the unsportsmanliness of climbing
out of his reach in the daytime, when he chased them; but they added to
their sins by joining the rest of the world,--except Lad,--in sleeping all
night. Even the lake that was so friendly by day was a chilly and
forbidding playfellow on the cool North Jersey nights.
There was nothing for a poor lonely pup to do but stretch out on his rug
and stare in unhappy silence up the driveway, in the impossible hope
that someone might happen along through the darkness to play with
him.
At such an hour and in such lonesomeness, Lad would gladly have
tossed aside all prejudices of caste,--and all his natural dislikes, and
would have frolicked in mad joy with the veriest stranger. Anything
was better than this drear solitude throughout the million hours before
the first of the maids should be stirring or the first of the farmhands
report for work. Yes, night was a disgusting time; and it had not one
single redeeming trait for the puppy.

Lad was not even consoled by the knowledge that he was guarding the
slumbrous house. He was not guarding it. He had not the very remotest
idea what it meant to be a watchdog. In all his five months he had never
learned that there is unfriendliness in the world; or that there is
anything to guard a house against.
True, it was instinctive with him to bark when People came down the
drive, or appeared at the gates without warning. But more than once the
Master had bidden him be silent when a rackety Puppy salvo of barking
had broken in on the arrival of some guest. And Lad was still in
perplexed doubt as to whether barking was something forbidden or
merely limited.
One night,--a solemn, black, breathless August night, when half-visible
heat lightning turned the murk of the western horizon to pulses of dirty
sulphur, Lad awoke from a fitful dream of chasing squirrels which had
never learned to climb.
He sat up on his rug, blinking around through the gloom in the half
hope that some of those non-climbing squirrels might still be in sight.
As they were not, he sighed unhappily and prepared to lay his classic
young head back again on the rug for another spell of night-shortening
sleep.
But, before his head could touch the rug, he reared it and half of his
small body from the floor and focused his nearsighted eyes on the
driveway. At the same time, his tail began to wag a thumping welcome.
Now, by day, a dog cannot see so far nor so clearly as can a human. But
by night,--for comparatively short distances,--he can see much better
than can his master. By day or by darkness, his keen hearing and keener
scent make up for all defects of eyesight.
And now three of Lad's senses told him he was no longer alone in his
tedious vigil. Down the drive, moving with amusing slowness and
silence, a man was coming. He was on foot. And he was fairly well
dressed. Dogs, the foremost snobs in creation,--are quick to note the
difference between a well-clad and a disreputable stranger.
Here unquestionably was a visitor:--some such man as so often came to
the Place and paid such flattering attention to the puppy. No longer
need Lad be bored by the solitude of this particular night. Someone was
coming towards the house;--and carrying a small bag under his arm.
Someone to make friends with. Lad was very happy.

Deep in his throat a welcoming bark was born. But he stilled it. Once,
when he had barked at the approach of a stranger, the stranger had gone
away. If this stranger were to go away, all the night's fun would go with
him. Also, no later than yesterday, the Master had scolded Lad for
barking at a man who had called. Wherefore the dog held his peace.
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