To　the　casual　observer　the　wee　terrier　was　no　older　than　when　his　master　died。　As　swift　of　foot　and　as　sound　of　wind　as　he　had　ever　been；　he　could　tear　across　country　at　the　heels　of　a　new　generation　of　Heriot　laddies　and　be　as　fresh　as　a　daisy　at　nightfall。　Silvery　gray　all　over；　the　whitening　hairs　on　his　face　and　tufted　feet　were　not　visible。　His　hazel…brown　eyes　were　still　as　bright　and　soft　and　deep　as　the　sunniest　pools　of　Leith　Water。　It　was　only　when　he　opened　his　mouth　for　a　tiny；　pink　cavern　of　a　yawn　that　the　points　of　his　teeth　could　be　seen　to　be　wearing　down；　and　his　after…dinner　nap　was　more　prolonged　than　of　old。　At　such　times　Mr。　Traill　recalled　that　the　longest　life　of　a　dog　is　no　more　than　a　fifth　of　the　length　of　days　allotted　to　man。
  On　that　snarling　April　day；　when　only　himself　and　the　flossy　ball　of　sleeping　Skye　were　in　the　place；　this　thought　added　to　Mr。　Traill's　discontent。　There　had　been　few　guests。　Those　who　had　come　in；　soaked　and　surly；　ate　their　dinner　in　silence　and　discomfort　and　took　themselves　away；　leaving　the　freshly　scrubbed　floor　as　mucky　as　a　moss…hag　on　the　moor。　Late　in　the　afternoon　a　sergeant；　risen　from　the　ranks　and　cocky　about　it；　came　in　and　turned　himself　out　of　a　dripping　greatcoat；　dapper　and　dry　in　his　red　tunic；　pipe…clayed　belt；　and　winking　buttons。　He　ordered　tea　and　toast　and　Dundee　marmalade　with　an　air　of　gay　well…being　that　was　no　less　than　a　personal　affront　to　a　man　in　Mr。　Traill's　frame　of　mind。　Trouble　brewed　with　the　tea　that　Ailie　Lindsey；　a　tall　lassie　of　fifteen；　but　shy　and　elfish　as　of　old；　brought　in　on　a　tray　from　the　scullery。
  When　this　spick…and…span　non…commissioned　officer　demanded　Mr。　Traill's　price　for　the　little　dog　that　took　his　eye；　the　landlord　replied　curtly　that　Bobby　was　not　for　sale。　The　soldier　was　insolently　amused。
  〃That's　vera　surprisin'。　I　aye　thoucht　an　Edinburgh　shopkeeper　wad　sell　ilka　thing　he　had；　an'　tak'　the　siller　to　bed　wi'　'im　to　keep　'im　snug　the　nicht。〃
  Mr。　Traill　returned；　with　brief　sarcasm；　that　〃his　lairdship〃　had　been　misinformed。
  〃Why　wull　ye　no'　sell　the　bit　dog？〃　the　man　insisted。
  The　badgered　landlord　turned　upon　him　and　answered　at　length；　after　the　elaborate　manner　of　a　minister　who　lays　his　sermon　off　in　sections
  〃First：　he's　no'　my　dog　to　sell。　Second：　he's　a　dog　of　rare　discreemination；　and　is　no'　like　to　tak'　you　for　a　master。　Third：　you　soldiers　aye　have　with　you　a　special　brand　of　shulling…a…day　impudence。　And；　fourth　and　last；　my　brither：　I'm　no'　needing　your　siller；　and　I　can　manage　to　do　fair　weel　without　your　conversation。〃
  As　this　bombardment　proceeded；　the　sergeant's　jaw　dropped。　When　it　was　finished　he　laughed　heartily　and　slapped　his　knee。　〃Man；　come　an'　brak　bread　wi'　me　or　I'll　hae　to　brak　yer　stiff　neck。〃
  A　truce　was　declared　over　a　cozy　pot　of　tea；　and　the　two　became　at　least　temporary　friends。　It　was　such　a　day　that　the　landlord　would　have　gossiped　with　a　gaol　bird；　and　when　a　soldier　who　has　seen　years　of　service；　much　of　it　in　strange　lands；　once　admits　a　shopkeeper　to　equality；　he　can　be　affable　and　entertaining　〃by　the　ordinar'。〃　Mr。　Traill　sketched　Bobby's　story　broadly；　and　to　a　sympathetic　listener；　and　the　soldier　told　the　landlord　of　the　animals　that　had　lived　and　died　in　the　Castle。
  Parrots　and　monkeys　and　strange　dogs　and　cats　had　been　brought　there　by　regiments　returning　from　foreign　countries　and　colonies。　But　most　of　the　pets　had　been　native　dogs…collies；　spaniels　and　terriers；　and　animals　of　mixed　breeds　and　of　no　breed　at　all；　but　just　good　dogs。　No　one　knew　when　the　custom　began；　but　there　was　an　old　and　well…filled　cemetery　for　the　Castle　pets。　When　a　dog　died　a　little　stone　was　set　up；　with　the　name　of　the　animal　and　the　regiment　to　which　it　had　belonged　on　it。　Soldiers　often　went　there　among　the　tiny　mounds　and　told　stories　of　the　virtues　and　taking　ways　of　old　favorites。　And　visitors　read　the　names　of　Flora　and　Guy　and　Dandie；　of　Prince　Charlie　and　Rob　Roy；　of　Jeanie　and　Bruce　and　Wattie。　It　was　a　merry　life　for　a　dog　in　the　Castle。　He　was　petted　and　spoiled　by　homesick　men；　and　when　he　died　there　were　a　thousand　mourners　at　his　funeral。
  〃Put　it　to　the　bit　Skye　noo。　If　he　tak's　the　Queen's　shullin'　he　belongs　to　the　army。〃　The　sergeant　flipped　a　coin　before　Bobby；　who　was　wagging　his　tail　and　sniffing　at　the　military　boots　with　his　ever　lively　interest　in　soldiers。
  He　looked　up　at　the　tossed　coin　indifferently；　and　when　it　fell　to　the　floor　he　let　it　lie。　〃Siller　〃　has　no　meaning　to　a　dog。　His　love　can　be　purchased　with　nothing　less　than　his　chosen　master's　heart。　The　soldier　sighed　at　Bobby's　indifference。　He　introduced　himself　as　Sergeant　Scott；　of　the　Royal　Engineers；　detailed　from　headquarters　to　direct　the　work　in　the　Castle　crafts　shops。　Engineers　rank　high　in　pay　and　in　consideration；　and　it　was　no　ordinary　Jack　of　all　trades　who　had　expert　knowledge　of　so　many　skilled　handicrafts。　Mr。　Traill's　respect　and　liking　for　the　man　increased　with　the　passing　moments。
  As　the　sergeant　departed　he　warned　Mr。　Traill；　laughingly；　that　he　meant　to　kidnap　Bobby　the　very　first　chance　he　got。　The　Castle　pet　had　died；　and　Bobby　was　altogether　too　good　a　dog　to　be　wasted　on　a　moldy　auld　kirkyard　and　thrown　on　a　dust…cart　when　he　came　to　die。
  Mr。　Traill　resented　the　imputation。　〃He'll　no'　be　thrown　on　a　dust…cart！〃
  The　door　was　shut　on　the　mocking　retort　〃Hoo　do　ye　ken　he　wullna？〃
  And　there　was　food　for　gloomy　reflection。　The　landlord　could　not　know；　in　truth；　what　Bobby's　ultimate　fate　might　be。　But　little　over　nine　years　of　age；　he　should　live　only　five　or　six　years　longer　at　most。　Of　his　friends；　Mr。　Brown　was　ill　and　aging；　and　might　have　to　give　place　to　a　younger　man。　He　himself　was　in　his　prime；　but　he　could　not　be　certain　of　living　longer　than　this　hardy　little　dog。　For　the　first　time　he　realized　the　truth　of　Dr。　Lee's　saying　that　everybody's　dog　was　nobody's　dog。　The　tenement　children　held　Bobby　in　a　sort　of　community　affection。　He　was　the　special　pet　of　the　Heriot　laddies；　but　a　class　was　sent　into　the　world　every　year　and　was　scattered　far。　Not　one　of　all　the　hundreds　of　bairns　who　had　known　and　loved　this　little　dog　could　give　him　any　real　care　or　protection。
  For　the　rest；　Bobby　had　remained　almost　unknown。　Many　of　the　congregations　of　old　and　new　Greyfriars　had　never　seen　or　heard　of　him。　When　strangers　were　about　he　seemed　to　prefer　lying　in　his　retreat　under　the　fallen　tomb。　His　Sunday…afternoon　naps　he　usually　took　in　the　lodge　kitchen。　And　so；　it　might　very　well　happen　that　his　old　age　would　be　friendless；　that　he　would　come　to　some　forlorn　end；　and　be　carried　away　on　the　dustman's　cart。　It　might；　indeed；　be　better　for　him　to　end　his　days　in　love　and　honor　in　the　Castle。　But　to　this　solution　of　the　problem　Mr。　Traill　himself　was　not　reconciled。
  Sensing　some　shifting　of　the　winds　in　the　man's　soul；　Bobby　trotted　over　to　lick　his　hand。　Then　he　sat　up　on　the　hearth　and　lolled　his　tongue；　reminding　the　good　landlord　that　he　had　one　cheerful　friend　to　bear　him　company　on　the　blaw…weary　day。　It　was　thus　they　sat；　companionably；　when　a　Burgh　policeman　who　was　well　known　to　Mr。　Traill　came　in　to　dry　himself　by　the　fire。　Gloomy　thoughts　were　dispelled　at　once　by　the　instinct　of　hospitality。
  〃You're　fair　wet；　man。　Pull　a　chair　to　the　hearth。　And　you　have　a　bit　smut　on　your　nose；　Davie。〃
  〃It's　frae　the　railway　engine。　Edinburgh　was　a　reekie　toon　eneugh　afore　the　engines　cam'　in　an'　belched　smuts　in　ilka　body's　faces。〃　The　policeman　was　disgusted　and　discouraged　by　three　days　of　wet　clothing；　and　he　would　have　to　go　out　into　the　rain　again　before　he　got　dry。　Nothing　occurred　to　him　to　talk　about　but　grievances。
  〃Did　ye　ken　the　Laird　Provost；　Maister　Chambers；　is　intendin'　to　knock　a　lang　hole　aboon　the　tap　o'　the　Coogate　wynds？　It　wull　mak'　a　braid　street　ye　can　leuk　doon　frae　yer　doorway　here。　The　gude　auld　days　gangin'　doon　in　a　muckle　dust！〃
  〃Ay；　the　sun　will　peep　into　foul　places　it　hasn't　seen　sin'　Queen　Mary's　day。　And；　Davie；　it　would　be　more　according　to　the　gude　auld　customs　you're　so　fond　of　to　call　Mr。　William　Chambers　'Glenormiston'　for　his　bit　country　place。〃
  〃He's　no'　a　laird。〃
  〃Nae；　but　he'll　be　a　laird　the　next　time　the　Queen　shows　her　bonny　face　north　o'　the　Tweed。　Tak'　'a　cup　o'　kindness'　with　me；　man。　Hot　tay　will　tak'　the　cauld　out　of　vour　disposeetion。〃　Mr。　Traill　pulled　a　bell…cord　and　Ailie；　unused　as　yet　to　bells；　put　her　startled　little　face　in　at　the　door　to　the　scullery。　At　sight　of　the　policeman　she　looked　more　than　ever　like　a　scared　rabbit；　and　her　hands　shook　when　she　set　the　tray　down　before　him。　A　tenement　child　grew　up　in　an　atmosphere　of　hostility　to　uniformed　authority；　which　seldom　appeared　except　to　interfere　with　what　were　considered　personal　affairs。
  The　tea　mollified　the　dour　man；　but　there　was　one　more　rumbling。　〃I'm　no'　denyin'　the　Provost's　gude…hearted。　Ance　he　got　up　a　hame　for　gaen…aboot　dogs；　an'　he　had　naethin'　to　mak'　by　that。　But　he　canna　keep　'is　spoon　oot　o'　ilka　body's　porridge。　He's　fair　daft　to　tear　doon　the　wa's　that　cut　St。　Giles　up　into　fower；　snod；　white　kirks；　an'　mak'　it　the　ane　muckle　kirk　it　was　in　auld　Papist　days。　There　are　folk　that　say；　gin　he　doesna　l