One of Lad's snowy little forepaws was on the fallen pistol.

And the rest of Lad's sinewy body was crouching above it, fangs aglint, eyes blazing with hot menace.
Wefers jerked back his protruding arm, with extreme quickness; barely avoiding a deep slash from the collie's shearing eye-teeth.

And Lad, continued to "watch" the pistol.
The dog was having a lovely time.

Seldom had he been happier.

All good collies respond in semi-psychic fashion to the moods of their masters.
And, to Lad, the very atmosphere about him was thrilling just now to waves of stark excitement.