On the Master's bidding, Lad crossed to the car and suffered himself to be lifted aboard.

The Mistress started down the drive.

As they went, Lad ever looked back, with suffering despair in his dark eyes, at that huddle of golden fur at the wayside.
The Master carried the pitifully light armful to a secluded spot far beyond the stables; and there he buried it.

Then, satisfied that Lad could not find his mate's grave, he returned to the house.
His heart was heavy with helpless wrath.

Again and again, in the course of their drives, he and the Mistress had sickened at sight of mutely eloquent little bodies left in mid-road or tossed in some ditch,--testimony to the carelessness and callous hoggishness of autoists.