There was nothing for the game-keeper to do but to rush after him.  When he got to the marsh he found the dog standing upon a knoll, howling with all his might.

The man thought he had better find out the meaning of this, so he dropped his gun and crawled out over the marsh on hands and knees.  He had not gone far when he saw an elk cow lying dead in the quagmire.  Close beside her lay a little calf.  It was still alive, but so much exhausted that it could not move.  Karr was standing beside the calf, now bending down and licking it, now howling shrilly for help.

The game-keeper raised the calf and began to drag it toward land.  When the dog understood that the calf would be saved he was wild with joy.  He jumped round and round the game-keeper, licking his hands and barking with delight.

The man carried the baby elk home and shut it up in a calf stall in the cow shed.  Then he got help to drag the mother elk from the marsh.  Only after this had been done did he remember that he was to shoot Karr.  He called the dog to him, and again took him into the forest.

The game-keeper walked straight on toward the dog’s grave; but all the while he seemed to be thinking deeply.  Suddenly he turned and walked toward the manor.

Karr had been trotting along quietly; but when the game-keeper turned and started for home, he became anxious.  The man must have discovered that it was he that had caused the death of the elk, and now he was going back to the manor to be thrashed before he was shot!

To be beaten was worse than all else!  With that prospect Karr could no longer keep up his spirits, but hung his head.  When he came to the manor he did not look up, but pretended that he knew no one there.

The master was standing on the stairs leading to the hall when the game-keeper came forward.

“Where on earth did that dog come from?” he exclaimed.  “Surely it can’t be Karr?  He must be dead this long time!”

Then the man began to tell his master all about the mother elk, while Karr made himself as little as he could, and crouched behind the game-keeper’s legs.

Much to his surprise the man had only praise for him.  He said it was plain the dog knew that the elk were in distress, and wished to save them.

“You may do as you like, but I can’t shoot that dog!” declared the game-keeper.

Karr raised himself and pricked up his ears.  He could hardly believe that he heard aright.  Although he did not want to show how anxious he had been, he couldn’t help whining a little.  Could it be possible that his life was to be spared simply because he had felt uneasy about the elk?

The master thought that Karr had conducted himself well, but as he did not want the dog, he could not decide at once what should be done with him.

“If you will take charge of him and answer for his good behaviour in the future, he may as well live,” he said, finally.