Lad crouched, panther-like; and a low growl parted still further his writhing lips.
Higham was enough of a collie man to foresee the inevitable next move.
He stood stock still.

The Master put his hand once more on Lad's ruff; but none too tightly.

And he nodded toward the clutter of newspapers and wooden plates.

Higham's language soared spoutingly to high heaven.
But he turned back and, with vicious grabs, cleared the lawn of its unsightly litter.
"Take it into the boat with you." said the Master.

"That's all.
Goodbye.