Further Adventures of Lad | Page 8

his tail in ardent
invitation to the stranger to chase him and get back the satchel. Thus

did the Master romp with Lad, when the flannel doll was the prize of
their game. And Lad loved such races.
Yes, the stranger was accepting the invitation. The moment he had
crawled out on the veranda he reached down for the bag. As it was not
where he thought he had left it, he swung his groping hand forward in a
half-circle, his fingers sweeping the floor.
Make that enticing motion, directly in front of a playful collie pup;
specially if he has something he doesn't want you to take from
him;--and watch the effect.
Instantly, Lad was athrill with the spirit of the game. In one scurrying
backward jump, he was off the veranda and on the lawn, tail vibrating,
eyes dancing; satchel held tantalizingly towards its would-be possessor.
The light sound of his body touching ground reached the man.
Reasoning that the sweep of his own arm had somehow knocked the
bag off the porch, he ventured off the edge of the veranda and flashed a
swathed ray of his pocket light along the ground in search of it.
The flashlight's lens was cleverly muffled; in a way to give forth but a
single subdued finger of illumination. That one brief glimmer was
enough to show the thief a right impossible sight. The glow struck
answering lights from the polished sides of the brown bag. The bag was
hanging in air, some six inches above the grass and perhaps five feet
away from him. Then he saw it swig frivolously to one side and vanish
in the night.
The astonished man had seen more. Feeble was the flashlight's
shrouded ray, too feeble to outline against the night the small dark body
behind the shining brown bag. But that same ray caught and reflected
back to the incredulous beholder two splashes of pale fire;--glints from
a pair of deep-set collie-eyes.
As the bag disappeared, the eerie fire-points were gone. The thief all
but dropped his flashlight. He gaped in nervous dread; and sought
vainly to account for the witch-work he had witnessed. He had plenty
of nerve. He had plenty of experience along his chosen line of endeavor.
But, while a crook may control his nerve, he cannot make it phlegmatic
or steady. Always, he must be conscious of holding it in check, as a
clever driver checks and steadies and keeps in subjection a plunging
horse. Let the vigilance slacken, and there is a runaway.
Now this particular marauder had long ago keyed his nerve to the

chance of interruption from some gun-brandishing householder; and to
the possible pursuit of police; and to the need of fighting or of fleeing.
But all his preparations had not taken into account this newest
emergency. He had not steeled himself to watch unmoved the gliding
away of a treasure-satchel, apparently moving of its own will; nor the
shimmer of two greenish sparks in the air just above it. And, for an
instant, the man had to battle against a craven desire to bolt.
Lad, meanwhile, was having a beautiful time. Sincerely, he appreciated
the playful grab his nocturnal friend had made in his general direction.
Lad had countered this, by frisking away for another five or six feet,
and then wheeling about to face once more his playfellow and to await
the next move in the blithe gambol. The pup could see tolerably well,
in the darkness quite well enough to play the game his guest had
devised. And of course, he had no way of knowing that the man could
not see equally well.
Shaking off his momentary terror, the thief once more pressed the
button of his flashlight; swinging the torch in a swift semicircle and
extinguishing it at once; lest the dim glow be seen by any wakeful
member of the family.
That one quick sweep revealed to his gaze the shiny brown bag a
half-dozen feet ahead of him, still swinging several inches above
ground. He flung himself forward at it; refusing to believe he also saw
that queer double glow of pale light just above. He dived for the satchel
with the speed and the accuracy of a football tackle. And that was all
the good it did him.
Perhaps there is something in nature more agile and dismayingly
elusive than a romping young collie. But that "something" is not a
mortal man. As the thief sprang, Lad sprang in unison with him; darting
to the left and a yard or so backward. He came to an expectant standstill
once more; his tail wildly vibrating, his entire furry body tingling with
the glad excitement of the game. This sportive visitor of his was a
veritable godsend. If only he could