He shaved and dressed quickly, watching the mist roll back over the fields and the early morning sun break through. It would be a perfect fall day, an Indian summer day, warm and mellow. Downstairs he found the animals waiting patiently by the door for their early morning run. He let them out, then cooked and ate his solitary breakfast. He was out in the driveway, loading up his car when the dogs and cat returned from the fields. He fetched some biscuits for them and they lay by the wall of the house in the early sun, watching him. He threw the last item into the back of the car, thankful that he had already packed the guns and hunting equipment before the Labrador had seen them, then walked over and patted the heads of his audience, one by one. “Be good,” he said. “Mrs. Oakes will be here soon. Good-by, Luath,” he said to the Labrador, “I wish I could have taken you with me, but there wouldn’t be room in the canoe for three of us.” He put his hand under the young dog’s soft muzzle.
