Once, for a second, Wefers' eyes met his; but they were averted in queer haste.
As Lad tugged his burden beneath the stringpiece, the Master bent down and gripped the sodden wet shoulders of the constable.

One none-too-gentle heave, and Wefers was lying in a panting and dripping heap on the clean dock.

Lad, relieved of his heavy load, swam leisurely around to shore.

It had been a delightfully thrilling day, thus far, for the collie.

But he was just a bit tired.
By the time the dazed constable was able to sit up and peer owlishly into the unloving faces of the Mistress and the Master, Lad had shaken himself thrice and was pattering across the dock toward the group.