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“Little boy!” she called, “come here! Come and talk to your dog—come quick! I won’t hurt you. Come and call him—please come!”

For a moment she lay panting, looking into the dilated eyes so near her face.

“Old chap,” she said softly, “what’s all the fuss? I’m your friend if you only knew it. Nice doggie——”

She glanced at the child again, who had not moved.

“Come on, sonny,” she called coaxingly, “come on—please.”

Slowly the child came forward, hesitant, afraid, his small face pale with fright.

He sidled near and put out a dirty hand to the dog’s right ear. The little hand closed—pulled—and Nance felt the dog’s body twitch in an effort to obey. She knew at once that that was the way they travelled together—the child holding to his ear. Slowly she relaxed her grip, let go the backward pressure. The Collie jerked free and backed off shaking his head, and Nance sat up, folding her feet beneath her.

Then she smiled at the two waifs of Blue Stone Cañon.

“That isn’t a nice way to treat folks who come to see you, is it, sonny?” she asked, “to set your dog on them?”