Stay where you are, Rex--I will be back some time before daylight," and throwing his night-cloak about his shoulders, he started for his gig.
The dog stopped with his paws resting on the outer edge of the top step of the porch, the line he was not to pass, and looked wistfully after the doctor.

His loneliness was to continue, and his poor master to go out into the night alone.

His tail ceased to wag, only his eyes moved.
Once outside Doctor John patted the mare's neck as if in apology and loosened the reins.

"Come, old girl," he said; "I'm sorry, but it can't be helped," and springing into the gig, he walked the mare clear of the gravel beyond the gate, so as not to rouse his mother, touched her lightly with the whip, and sent her spinning along the road on the way to Fogarty's.
The route led toward the sea, branching off within the sight of the cottage porch, past the low, conical ice-houses used by the fishermen in which to cool their fish during the hot weather, along the sand-dunes, and down a steep grade to the shore.

The tide was making flood, and the crawling surf spent itself in long shelving reaches of foam.