It was certainly an inviting yard and the gate stood temptingly ajar.  The gravelled highway was rough for a little dog’s feet, and Laddie and the Piper had travelled far.  For many a mile, there had been no water, and in this cool, green yard, there was a small pool.  Laddie whined softly and nosed the gate farther open.

A man sat on the porch, but he was asleep—­anyhow, his eyes were closed.  Perhaps he had a dog of his own.  At any rate, he could not object to a tired yellow mongrel quenching his thirst at his pool.  The Piper had gone on without observing that his wayworn companion had stopped.

Except for a mob of boys who had thrown stones at him and broken his leg, humans had been kind to Laddie.  It had been a human, Piper Tom, in fact, who had rescued him from the boys and made his leg good again.  Laddie cherished no resentment against the mob, for he had that eternal forgiveness of blows and neglect which lives in the heart of the commonest cur.

Opening his eyes, Anthony Dexter noted that a small, rough-coated yellow dog was drinking eagerly at the pool of water past which Evelina continually moved.  She went by twice while the dog was drinking, but he took no notice of her.  Neither robins nor dogs seemed to fear Evelina—­it was only men, or, to be exact, one man, who had hitherto feared nothing save self-analysis.

The turf was cool and soft to a little dog’s tired feet.  Laddie walked leisurely toward the shrubbery, where there was deep and quiet shade.  Under the lilac bush, he lay down to rest, but was presently on his feet again, curiously exploring the place.

He sniffed carefully at the ground behind the lilac bushes, and the wiry hair on his back bristled.  There was something uncanny about it, and a guarding instinct warned him away.  But what was this that lay on the ground, so soaked with rains that, in the shade, it had not yet dried?  Laddie dragged it out into the sunlight to see.

It was small and square and soft on the outside, yet hard within.  Except for the soft, damp outer covering, it might have been the block of pine with which Piper Tom and he would play by the hour.  The Piper would throw the block of wood far from him, sometimes even into the water, and Laddie would race after it, barking gaily.  When he brought it back, he was rewarded with a pat on the head, or, sometimes, a bone.  Always, there would be friendly talk.  Perhaps the man on the porch had thrown this, and was waiting for him to bring it back.

Laddie took the mysterious thing carefully in his strong jaws, and trotted exultantly up to the porch, wagging his stub of a tail.  Strangely enough, just at the steps, the thing opened, and something small and cold and snake-like slipped out.  The man could scarcely have seen the necklace of discoloured pearls before, with an oath, he rose to his feet, and, firmly holding Laddie under his arm, strode into the house, entering at the side door.