Still in the air there seemed to linger that startled little cry--"Oh!"-- surprise, wonder--and then fading miserably into nothing as the great body fell.
Such a huge hulking brute; now so sordid and useless, looking at last, after all these years, the thing that it ought always to have looked.
Some money had rolled from the pocket and lay shining amongst the fern.
A gold ring glittered on the white finger, seeming in the heart of that silence the only living note.
Then Olva remembered his dog--where was he?
He turned and saw the fox terrier down on all fours amongst the fern, motionless, his tongue out, his eyes gazing with animal inquiry at his master.

The dog was waiting for the order to continue the walk.

He seemed, in his passivity, merely to be resting, a little exhausted perhaps by the heavy closeness of the day, too indolent to nose amongst the leaves for possible adventure: Olva looked at him.

The dog caught the look and beat the grass with his tail, soft, friendly taps to show that he only waited for orders.

Then still idly, still with that air of gentle amusement, the dog gazed at the thing in the grass.