And now he had made an industrious effort to kill one of these people.
It was no light offense for a dog to attack a human.

Lad, like every well-trained collie, knew that.

His own death might well follow.
Indeed, from the babel of voices on the veranda, squalling confusedly such hackneyed sentiments as "Mad dog!" and "Get a gun!" it seemed highly probable that Lad was due to suffer full penalty, from the man-pack.
Yet he gave no heed to the clamor.

Instead, turning slowly, he faced the Master; ready for whatever might follow.

But nothing followed,--nothing at least that he expected.
The Master simply commanded:-- "Down, Lad!" As the dog, obediently, dropped to the ground, the Master bent to examine the groaning and maudlinly weeping Rhuburger.