"I'm going.

And I'm going because I'm thinking of the same thing that's troubling you.

I'm thinking of those forest fires and of what you said about the wind changing and--" "Come on!" repeated the Master; starting for the garage.
Which shows how maudlinly foolish two otherwise sane people can be; when they are lucky enough to own such a dog as Sunnybank Lad.
Naturally, the right course, at so cold and late an hour of the autumn night, and after a long day of packing and motoring and unpacking, was to go to bed; and to trust to luck that the wise old collie would find his way back again.

Instead, the two set off on a twenty-mile wildgoose chase, with worried faces and fast-beating hearts.

It did not occur to either of them to stay at home; or to send someone else on the long, frosty drive in search of the missing dog.
Lad had watched the preparations for departure with increasing worry.
Also, the abnormally sensitive old fellow was wretchedly unhappy.
Except at dog-shows, he had never before been tied up.