Running at top speed, Shep circled around the flock to Hugh’s side. The man was standing up to receive him. He had seen his speeding form a long way off through the dim clouds of smoke: the only creature that moved in the whole breadth of the forest. The sheep themselves were making no further effort to flee from the flames. Far or near, the wall had encircled them; and they stood as if stricken dead, heads close to the ground. “Great God, Shep!” the man cried. “Have you come back to see it through with me?” And a light that had no kinship with the dreadful glare of the fire flashed to the man’s face. Shep was returning to his flocks. He had kept faith, after all. He was only a dog, yet to Hugh his fidelity was a clear, bright shaft of light in an impenetrable darkness. No scales of earth could measure the difference that it made to him. Yet Shep did not come to nestle in his strong arms. Memories were flashing over him, and he remembered a morning, months ago, when one of his wards had been in danger and he himself had been powerless to save. A lamb had fallen into the torrent, and his master had gone quickly to his aid. When he was within a few feet of Hugh he paused, barking, then ran a little way back. “What is it, Shep?” the man asked. “What do you want me to do?” The dog barked louder, running forward again and pausing to see if his master followed. Hugh gazed at him with widening eyes. At first it did not even occur to him that Alice was in distress. He supposed that she had fled to safety long since. Yet the dog was frenzied in his eagerness, just as in times past when some beast of prey had menaced one of the sheep. And Hugh remembered that never once had the dog urged him forward without cause. “What is it, old man?” he cried. “There’s no way out. Let’s stay with the sheep—and see it through.” But still the animal entreated. The fire raged and roared, burning slowly on the descents, leaping with incredible fury as it mounted the ridges, advancing steadily down the floor of the valley. East, west, south and north,—everywhere a wall of flame. There was no way out. Yet he could not doubt the urgency of this appeal. And all at once the instinct came to answer it. Perhaps it was because of his abiding faith in the animal’s intelligence, perhaps just that in this final hour he knew that any miracle might come to pass. He sprang up, and he didn’t try to keep up with the dog at a walking pace. He ran from the first step. The dead logs across the trail, the hills and steeps, the narrow passes between the walls of brush did not check his pace at all. The air surged into his lungs in great sobs, his muscles ached and burned as if the flames had already reached them. He knew—by token of a clear voice within himself—that he was running for a _life_—one that was very dear to him and must be saved at all cost. * * * * *