"Why, here's the idea," explained Glure, as they made their way through the heat back to the shade of the porch. "It's what I drove over here to talk with you about. I'm making the rounds of all this region. And, say, I didn't ask to see Lad. I asked if you still had him. I asked because----" "Oh," apologized the Master. "I thought you wanted to see him. Most people ask to if he doesn't happen to be round when they call. We----" "I asked you if you still had him," expounded Mr. Glure, "because I hoped you hadn't. I hoped you were more of a patriot." "Patriot?" echoed the Master, puzzled. "Yes. That's why I'm making this tour of the country: to rouse dog owners to a sense of their duty. I've just formed a local branch of the Food Conservation League and----" "It's a splendid organization," warmly approved the Master, "but what have dog owners to----" "To do with it?" supplemented Glure. "They have nothing to do with it, more's the pity. But they ought to. That's why I volunteered to make this canvass. It was my own idea. Some of the others were foolish enough to object, but as I had founded and financed this Hampton branch of the League----" "What 'canvass' are you talking about?" asked the Master, who was far too familiar with Glure's ways to let the man become fairly launched on a paean of self-adulation. "You say it's 'to rouse dog owners to a sense of their duty.' Along what line? We dog men have raised a good many thousand dollars this past year by our Red Cross shows and by our subscriptions to all sorts of war funds. The Blue Cross, too, and the Collie Ambulance Fund have----" "This is something better than the mere giving of surplus coin," broke in Glure. "It is something that involves sacrifice. A needful sacrifice for our country. A sacrifice that may win the war." "Count me in on it, then!" cordially approved the Master. "Count in all real dog men. What is the 'sacrifice'?" "It's my own idea," modestly boasted Glure, adding: "That is, of course, it's been agitated by other people in letters to newspapers and all that, but I'm the first to go out and put it into actual effect." "Shoot!" suggested the weary Master. "That's the very word!" exclaimed Glure. "That's the very thing I want dog owners to combine in doing. To shoot!" "To--what?" "To shoot--or poison--or asphyxiate," expounded Glure, warming to his theme. "In short, to get rid of every dog." The Master's jaw swung ajar and his eyes bulged. His face began to assume an unbecoming bricky hue. Glure went on: