My New Zealand Garden 83 



through me as I darted after the collie, calling 

 him peremptorily. He came in a Uriah Heepish 

 sort of way, and I examined his front feet. There 

 was nothing suspicious, they were rather clean. 

 Perhaps he had washed his hands ; however, the 

 verdict went against him, so I undertook to 

 watch. I did not intend to sit out all night, so I 

 fervently hoped that the excavator's plans would 

 be in accordance with my own wishes. And 

 sure enough they were ; for on the fourth evening, 

 when it was getting dark, I just descried him, 

 about twenty yards away, selecting another spot. 

 I let him begin, and then well, I caught him, and 

 he caught it. The most remarkable thing about 

 it all, next to the size of the holes, was that he 

 should have known, as I suppose he did, where 

 the deepest-made soil in the garden was, for he 

 chose the only spot where it was 5 feet deep. He 

 was a dog who never did things by halves, but by 

 ' holes,' so we gave him away, bad character and 

 all. He was deceitful past endurance, and I hope 

 for all sakes that he met with the proverbially 

 sad fate reserved for dogs with bad names. He 

 should have been buried in the hole which he 

 had made, with this epitaph : 



' Here lies a bad doggie who lied, with aplomb of degraded 



humanity, 



And smiled with capacious sweet smiles, to cloak his mis- 

 deeds with urbanity. 



62 



