Suddenly, while he was speaking, there was a noise at the door, and in a moment a familiar voice was heard.

“Bow-wow-wow!  Bow-wow-wow!”

“Rover has come back!” shouted Sandy, flinging himself upon the door in his hurry to open it.

“Rover has come back!” cried little Jessie.

“The sheep have come back!” said their mother, looking out into the yard.  Yes, there were the sheep,—­every one of them safe and sound.  And there beside them, wagging his tail with joy and pride, was poor, tired, cold, hungry Rover.  He was hoarse from barking and breathless from running, but he was the happiest dog in all the world.

The unhappy sheep had paid dearly for their wish to get out.  They were glad to go back into their warm shed and eat a good meal of turnips.  As for Rover, he was treated like a prince.  He had the supper he liked best, and a soft bed was made for him near the fire.  He put his curly head down on his paws and went to sleep, while Sandy and Jessie watched him lovingly.  How far he had tramped over the hills or how he had found the sheep he could not tell.

“He is tired out,” said the shepherd.  “He must have a long rest now, for he has earned it.  Good, faithful, grateful Rover!”

FAMOUS DOGS.

The story of the dog Argus was told two thousand years ago by the great Greek poet, Homer.  Argus may not have been a real dog, but the poet must have known some dog like him or he could not have told the story so well.

Argus belonged to Ulysses, king of Ithaca.  He was only a puppy when his master went away to the Trojan war.  The years went by and Ulysses did not return.  Every one thought that he was dead.  At last Argus grew so old and feeble that he could not run about the palace.  All day long he lay in the warm, sunny courtyard, too weak to move.  It was twenty years since he had heard his master’s voice.

One day a beggar came into the courtyard.  No one knew who he was.  The queen looked at him coldly.  There was no friendly face to greet him.  But the old dog lifted up his head and whined and wagged his tail for joy.  The beggar’s rags could not deceive him.  He knew his master had come back at last, and Ulysses stooped to caress him with tears in his eyes.

The most famous dog in the world was a mastiff of St. Bernard’s.  His name was Barry.  He lived high up in the Alps where it is winter the greater part of the year.  He was trained, by the good monks with whom he lived, to go out and hunt for travelers lost in the snow.  When he found a man lying half-frozen in the drifts, he would run back, barking for help.  Then the monks would follow him and bring the traveler to their warm house.

[Illustration:  The connoisseurs.  By Sir Edwin Landseer.]

Barry knew all the dangerous places, and when there had been a snow slide he was sure to be on the spot as soon as he could, to see if any one were hurt.  Once he found a little, boy in the snow and in some way made him understand what he must do.  The child climbed upon the dog’s broad back and was carried safely to the fire and the good supper always waiting for the lost ones.