The lad's face went white. He turned and began to run. The wagon came in a short time. Old Mac was lifted and placed on the mattress. By the easiest route they could pick they drove him home. They sent in haste to Breton Junction for a doctor--not a dog doctor but a people's doctor. But one of the rocks against which he had been hurled had driven a rib into old Mac's side. And at eleven o'clock that night, almost at the hour when the hand of God had smitten him, and in the parlour itself, blind Mac, at a call of his name by his master, tapped the floor with his tail for the last time. It was an hour later that Martha discovered the telegram in the pocket of her husband's hunting coat, which he had thrown over a chair; and there in the presence of the body they opened it and read: Got the appointment. Love to you and Mother and old Mac. (signed) FRANK. It was Tom Jennings who had the stone put up, where it stands now at the head of the grave, in the edge of the garden. It was Tom who had the words put on--with the help of a sympathetic carver who knew old Mac's story as nearly everybody in the country knew it. TO THE MEMORY OF MAC A SETTER DOG WHO, BLIND FROM AN EARLY AGE, YET DID HIS WORK IN THE WORLD FAITHFULLY AND CHEERFULLY THE WORLD IS BETTER BECAUSE HE LIVED. VI COMET No puppy ever came into the world under more favourable auspices than Comet. He was descended from a famous line of pointers. Both his father and mother were champions. Before he opened his eyes and while he was crawling about over his brothers and sisters, blind as puppies are at birth, Jim Thompson, Mr. Devant's kennel master, picked him out. "I believe that's the best 'un in the bunch," he said. On the day the puppies opened their eyes and first gazed with wonder at this world into which they had been cast, Jim stooped down and snapped his fingers. There was a general scampering back to the protection of the mother by all but one. That was Comet. Even then he toddled toward the smiling man, in a groggy way, wagging his miniature tail. At the age of one month he pointed a butterfly that lit in the kennel yard. "Come here, Janie," yelled the delighted Thompson who saw it. "Pointed--the damn little cuss!" When Jim started taking the growing pups out of the yard and into the fields to the side of Devant's great Southern winter home, Oak Hill, it was Comet who strayed farthest from the man's protecting care. While at sight of a tree stump or a cow or some other monstrous object his brothers and sisters would scamper back to the man, Comet would venture toward it, provided it were not too far, to see what it was. If a cow he would bark, anxious little yelps, to show how brave he was. Then he would turn and run back--but not until he had first barked.