Not that it matters.

And now, perhaps you'll answer my question.
Whose dog is that ?" "Mine," returned the barefoot man, renewing his effort to drag the collie toward the boat.
"If he's yours," said Brice, pleasantly, "stop hauling him along and let him loose.

He'll follow you, without all that hustling.

A good collie will always follow, his master, anywhere." "When I'm honin' for your jabber," retorted the other, "I'll come a-askin' for it." He drew back his foot once more, for a kick.

But, with a lazy competence, Brice moved forward and gave him a light push, sidewise, on the shoulder.