A shaggy Airedale scented his way along the highroad. He had not been there before. But he was guided by the trail of his brethren who had preceded him. He had gone unwillingly upon this journey. Yet with the perfect training of dogs, he had accepted it without complaint. The path had been lonely, and his heart would have failed him, traveling as he must without his people. But the traces of countless dogs before him promised companionship of a sort at the end of the road. The landscape had appeared arid at first. The translation from his recent agony into freedom from pain had been so numbing in its swiftness that it was some time before he could fully appreciate the pleasant dog-country that he was passing through. There were woods with leaves on the ground that he could scurry through. There were long grassy slopes for extended runs. And there were lakes into which he might plunge for sticks, and bring them back to, well, who? But he did not complete his thought. You see, the boy was not with him. A little wave of homesickness possessed him. It made his mind easier to see far ahead a great gate as high as the heavens, wide enough for all. He understood that only man built such barriers. And by straining his eyes, he fancied that he could discern humans passing through to whatever lay beyond. He broke into a run, that he might the more quickly gain this enclosure made beautiful by men and women. But his thoughts outran his pace. Nownt of the dogs grew very strong now. And coming nearer, he discovered, to his astonishment, that of the myriads of those who had arrived ahead of him, thousands were still gathered on the outside of the portal. They sat in a wide circle spreading out on each side of the entran he remembered that he had left the family behind. And again, this lovely new compound would not be perfect, since it would lack the family. The scece. There were big, little, curly, handsome, mongrel, and thorough bred dogs of every age, complexion, and personality.All were apparently waiting for something or someone. And at the pad of the Airedale’s feet on the hard road, they arose and looked in his direction. That their interest passed, as soon as they discovered the newcomer to be a dog, puzzled him. In his former dwelling-place, a four-footed brother was greeted with enthusiasm when he was a friend. He was met with suspicious diplomacy when he was a stranger. And he was given sharp reproof when he was an enemy. But never had he been utterly ignored like this. He remembered something that he had read many times on great buildings with lofty entrances.

“Dogs not admitted,” the signs had said. And he feared that this might be the reason for the waiting circle outside the gate. It might be that this noble portal stood as the dividing-line between mere dogs and humans. But he had been a member of the family. He had romped with them in the living room. He had sat at meals with them in the dining room He had gone upstairs at night with them. And the thought that he was to be “kept out” would be unendurable.