and whined. So I knew his answer, and devoted myself to getting
Stanley's address in the Hills.

My turn to go to the cool came late in August. We were allowed
thirty days' holiday in a year, if no one fell sick, and we took
it as we could be spared. My chief and Bob the Librarian had
their holiday first, and when they were gone I made a calendar,
as I always did, and hung it up at the head of my cot, tearing
off one day at a time till they returned. Vixen had gone up to
the Hills with me five times before; and she appreciated the cold
and the damp and the beautiful wood fires there as much as I did.

"Garm," I said, "we are going back to Stanley at Kasauli.
Kasauli--Stanley; Stanley Kasauli." And I repeated it twenty
times. It was not Kasauli really, but another place. Still I
remembered what Stanley had said in my garden on the last night,
and I dared not change the name. Then Garm began to tremble; then
he barked; and then he leaped up at me, frisking and wagging his
tail.

"Not now," I said, holding up my hand. "When I say 'Go,' we'll
go, Garm." I pulled out the little blanket coat and spiked collar
that Vixen always wore up in the Hills to protect her against
sudden chills and thieving leopards, and I let the two smell them
and talk it over. What they said of course I do not know; but it
made a new dog of Garm. His eyes were bright; and he barked
joyfully when I spoke to him. He ate his food, and he killed his
rats for the next three weeks, and when he began to whine I had
only to say "Stanley--Kasauli; Kasauli--Stanley," to wake him up.
I wish I had thought of it before.