2i6 DOGS 



yet after he came to years of discretion — of indis- 

 cretion in his case — I could never give him his 

 liberty. I got him as a puppy, and he came of a 

 family of roving propensities, who seemed to fancy 

 themselves still in their native Labrador. All his 

 relatives had come to grief and been reported 

 missing, for the friend who gave him me lived 

 among pheasant preserves, where four-footed 

 poachers, taken red-handed, had short shrift. Griff, 

 as I called him — he was rather like the griffin 

 before the Law Courts — behaved admirably as a 

 juvenile ; he would come to whistle like a spaniel, 

 and follow quietly at heel. I went abroad for a 

 winter, and when I came back he was demoral- 

 ised and incorrigible. He had gone hunting on 

 his own account ; he was the terror of the far- 

 mers and the horror of the keepers, and had I 

 not been on the best of terms with these neigh- 

 bours, he would not have survived to welcome me 

 warmly. I tried to bring him back to discipline, 

 but it was no use. He would trot quietly behind 

 me for half a mile or so, then break off, and I 

 would hear his deep-mouthed bay among the 

 hedgerows half a parish away. He never worried 

 sheep, but he chased them till they huddled to- 

 gether breathless ; in pure spirit of mischief and 

 the joy of the chase, he even chevied colts and 

 young cattle. As to the hour when he might 

 come home, it was altogether a toss-up. When 

 he was missing, the wear and strain were tremen- 

 dous, for, as I say, I never loved a dog more ; but 



