CHAPTER X
THE KILLER
One of the jolliest minutes in Lad's daily cross-country tramp withthe Mistress and the Master was his dash up Mount Pisgah. This"mount" was little more than a foothill. It was treeless, and coveredwith short grass and mullein; a slope where no crop but buckwheatcould be expected to thrive. It rose out of the adjoining mountainforests in a long and sweeping ascent.
Here, with no trees or undergrowth to impede him, Lad, from puppyhood,had ordained a racecourse of his own. As he neared the hill he wouldalways dash forward at top speed; flying up the rise like a tawnywhirlwind, at unabated pace, until he stopped, panting and gloriouslyexcited, on the summit; to await his slower-moving human escorts.
One morning in early summer, Lad, as usual, bounded ahead of theMistress and the Master, as they drew near to the treeless "mount."And, as ever, he rushed gleefully forward for his daily breather, upthe long slope. But, before he had gone fifty yards, he came to ascurrying halt, and stood at gaze. His back was bristling and his lipscurled back from his white teeth in sudden annoyance.
His keen nostrils, even before his eyes, told him something was amisswith his cherished race-track. The eddying shift of the breeze, fromwest to north, had brought to his nose the odor which had checked hisonrush; an odor that wakened all sorts of vaguely formless memoriesfar back in Lad's brain; and which he did not at all care for.
Scent is ten times stronger, to a dog, than is sight. The best dog isnear sighted. And the worst dog has a magic sense of smell. Wherefore,a dog almost always uses his nose first and his eyes last. Which Ladnow proceeded to do.
Above him was the pale green hillside, up which he loved to gallop.But its surface was no longer smoothly unencumbered. Instead, it wasdotted and starred--singly or in groups--with fluffy grayish-whitecreatures.
Lad was almost abreast of the lowest group of sheep when he paused.Several of the feeding animals lifted their heads, snortingly,from the short herbage, at sight of him; and fled up the hill. Therest of the flock joined them in the silly stampede.
The dog made no move to follow. Instead, his forehead creased and hiseyes troubled, he stared after the gray-white surge that swept upwardtoward the summit of his favored coursing ground. The Mistress andthe Master, too, at sight of the woolly avalanche, stopped and stared.
From over the brow of Mount Pisgah appeared the non-picturesque figureof a man in blue denim overalls--one Titus Romaine, owner of thesparse-grassed hill. Drawn by the noisy multiple patter of his flock'shoofs, he emerged from under a hilltop boulder's shade; to learn thecause of their flight.
Now, in all his life, Lad had seen sheep just once before. That oneexception had been when Hamilcar Q. Glure, "the Wall Street Farmer,"had corralled a little herd of his prize Merinos, overnight, at ThePlace, on the way to the Paterson Livestock Show. On that occasion,the sheep had broken from the corral, and Lad, acting on ancestralinstinct, had rounded them up, without injuring or scaring one ofthem.
The memory was not pleasing to Lad, and he wanted nothing more to dowith such stupid creatures. Indeed, as he looked now upon the sheepthat were obstructing his run, he felt a distinct aversion tothem. Whining a little, he trotted back to where stood the Mistressand the Master. And, as they waited, Titus Romaine bore wrathfullydown upon them.
"I've been expectin' something like that!" announced the land-owner."Ever since I turned these critters out here, this mornin'. I ain'tsurprised a bit. I----"
"What is it you've been expecting, Romaine?" asked the Master. "Andhow long have you been a sheep-raiser? A sheep, here in the NorthJersey hinterland, is as rare as----"
"I been expectin' some savage dog would be runnin' 'em," retorted thefarmer. "Just like I've read they do. An' now I've caught him at it!"
"Caught _whom?_--at _what?_" queried the perplexed Mistress; failingto note the man's baleful glower at the contemptuous Lad.
"That big ugly brute of your'n, of course," declared Romaine. "Icaught him, red-handed, runnin' my sheep. He----"
"Lad did nothing of the kind," denied the Mistress. "The instant hecaught sight of them he stopped running. Lad wouldn't hurt anythingthat is weak and helpless. Your sheep saw him and they ran away. Hedidn't follow them an inch."
"I seen what I seen," cryptically answered the man. "An' I give youfair warnin', if any of my sheep is killed, I'll know right where tocome to look for the killer."
"If you mean Lad----" began the Master, hotly.
But the Mistress intervened.
"I am glad you have decided to raise sheep, Mr. Romaine," shesaid. "Everyone ought to, who can. I read, only the other day, thatAmerica is using up more sheep than it can breed; and that the priceof fodder and the scarcity of pasture were doing terrible things tothe mutton-and-wool supply. I hope you'll have all sorts of goodluck. And you are wise to watch your sheep so closely. But don't beafraid of Lad harming any of them. He wouldn't, for worlds, Iknow. Because I know Lad. Come along, Laddie!" she finished, as sheturned to go away.
But Titus Romaine stopped her.
"I've put a sight of money into this flock of sheep," he declared."More'n I could reely afford. An' I've been readin' up on sheep,too. I've been readin' that the worst en'my to sheep is 'pred'torydogs.' An' if that big dog of your'n ain't 'pred'tory,' thenI never seen one that was. So I'm warnin' you, fair----"
"If your sheep come to any harm, Mr. Romaine," returned the Mistress,again forestalling an untactful outbreak from her husband, "I'llguarantee Lad will have nothing to do with it."
"An' I'll guarantee to have him shot an' have you folks up in court,if he does," chivalrously retorted Mr. Titus Romaine.
With which exchange of goodfellowship, the two groups parted, Romainereturning to his scattered sheep, while the Mistress, Lad at herheels, lured the Master away from the field of encounter. The Masterwas fuming.
"Here's where good old Mr. Trouble drops in on us for a nice longvisit!" he grumbled, as they moved homeward. "I can see how it isgoing to turn out. Because a few stray curs have chased or killedsheep, now and then, every decent dog is under suspicion as asheep-killer. If one of Romaine's wethers gets a scratch on its leg,from a bramble, Lad will be blamed. If one of the mongrels from overin the village should chase his sheep, Lad will be accused. And we'llbe in the first 'neighborhood squabble' of our lives."
The Master spoke with a pessimism his wife did not share, and whichhe, himself, did not really believe. The folk at The Place had alwayslived in goodfellowship and peace with their few rural neighbors, aswell as with the several hundred inhabitants of the mile-distantvillage, across the lake. And, though livestock is the foundation ofninety rustic feuds out of ninety-one, the dogs of The Place had neverinvolved their owners in any such row.
Yet, barely three days later, Titus Romaine bore down upon The Place,before breakfast, breathing threatenings and complaining of slaughter.
He was waiting on the veranda in blasphemous converse with The Place'sforeman, when the Master came out. At Titus's heels stood his "hiredman"--a huge and sullen person named Schwartz, who possessed ascarce-conquered accent that fitted the name.
"Well!" orated Romaine, in glum greeting, as he sighted the Master."Well, I guessed right! He done it, after all! He done it. Weall but caught him, red-handed. Got away with four of my best sheep!Four of 'em. The cur!"
"What are you talking about?" demanded the Master, as the Mistress,drawn by the visitor's plangent tones, joined the veranda-group."'Bout that ugly big dog of your'n!" answered Romaine. "I knewwhat he'd do, if he got the chance. I knew it, when I saw himrunnin' my poor sheep, last week. I warned you then. The twoof you. An' now he's done it!"
"Done what?" insisted the Master, impatient of the man's noise andfury.
"What dog?" asked the Mistress, at the same time.
"Are you talking about Lad? If you are----"
"I'm talkin' about your big brown collie cur!" snorted Titus. "He'sgone an' killed four of my best sheep. Did it in the night an' earlythis mornin'. My man here
caught him at the last of 'em, an' drovehim off, just as he was finishin' the poor critter. He got away withthe rest of 'em."
"Nonsense!" denied the Master. "You're talking rot. Lad wouldn't toucha sheep. And----"
"That's what all folks say when their dogs or their children ischarged with doin' wrong!" scoffed Romaine. "But this time it won't dono good to----"
"You say this happened last night?" interposed the Mistress.
"Yes, it did. Last night an' early in the mornin', too. Schwartz,here----"
"But Lad sleeps in the house, every night," objected the Mistress. "Hesleeps under the piano, in the music room. He has slept there everynight since he was a puppy. The maid who dusts the downstairs roomsbefore breakfast lets him out, when she begins work. So he----"
"Bolster it up any way you like!" broke in Romaine. "He was out lastnight, all right. An' early this morning, too."
"How early?" questioned the Master.
"Five o'clock," volunteered Schwartz, speaking up, from behind hisemployer. "I know, because that's the time I get up. I went out,first thing, to open the barnyard gate and drive the sheep to thepasture. First thing I saw was that big dog growling over a sheep he'djust killed. He saw me, and he wiggled out through the barnyardbars--same way he had got in. Then I counted the sheep. One wasdead,--the one he had just killed--and three were gone. We've beenlooking for their bodies ever since, and we can't find them."
"I suppose Lad swallowed them," ironically put in The Place'sforeman. "That makes about as much sense as the rest of the yarn. TheOld Dog would no sooner----"
"Do you really mean to say you saw Lad--saw and _recognized_ him--inMr. Titus's barnyard, growling over a sheep he had just killed?"demanded the Mistress.
"I sure do," affirmed Schwartz. "And I----"
"An' he's ready to go on th' stand an' take oath to it!" supplementedTitus. "Unless you'll pay me the damages out of court. Them sheep costme exac'ly $12.10 a head, in the Pat'son market, one week ago. An'sheep on the hoof has gone up a full forty cents more since then. Youowe me for them four sheep exac'ly----"
"I owe you not one red cent!" denied the Master. "I hate law worsethan I hate measles. But I'll fight that idiotic claim all the way upto the Appellate Division before I'll----"
The Mistress lifted a little silver whistle that hung at her belt andblew it. An instant later Lad came galloping gaily up the lawn fromthe lake, adrip with water from his morning swim. Straight, at theMistress' summons, he came, and stood, expectant, in front of her,oblivious of others.
The great dog's mahogany-and-snow coat shone wetly in the sunshine.Every line of his splendid body was tense. His eyes looked upinto the face of the loved Mistress in eager anticipation. For awhistle-call usually involved some matter of more than commoninterest.
"That's the dog!" cried Schwartz, his thick voice betraying a shademore of its half-lost German accent, in the excitement of theminute. "That's the one. He has washed off the blood. But that is theone. I could know him anywhere at all. And I knew him, already. AndMr. Romaine told me to be looking out for him, about the sheep, too.So I----"
The Master had bent over Lad, examining the dog's mouth. "Not a traceof blood or of wool!" he announced. "And look how he faces us! If hehad anything to be ashamed of----"
"I got a witness to prove he killed my sheep," cut in Romaine. "Sinceyou won't be honest enough to square the case out of court, then thelaw'll take a tuck in your wallet for you. The law will look after apoor man's int'rest. I don't wonder there's folks who want all dogsdone 'way with. Pesky curs! Here, the papers say we are short onsheep, an' they beg us to raise 'em, because mutton is worth doublewhat it used to be, in open market. Then, when I buy sheep, on thatsayso, your dog gets four of 'em the very first week. Think what themfour sheep would 'a meant to----"
"I'm sorry you lost them," the Master interrupted. "Mighty sorry. AndI'm still sorrier if there is a sheep-killing dog at large anywhere inthis region. But Lad never----"
"I tell ye, he _did!_" stormed Titus. "I got proof of it. Proofgood enough for any court. An' the court is goin' to see me righted.It's goin' to do more. It's goin' to make you shoot that killer,there, too. I know the law. I looked it up. An' the law says if asheep-killin' dog----"
"Lad is not a sheep-killing dog!" flashed the Mistress.
"That's what he is!" snarled Romaine. "An', by law, he'll be shot assech. He----"
"Take your case to law, then!" retorted the Master, whose last shredof patience went by the board, at the threat. "And take it andyourself off my Place! Lad doesn't 'run' sheep. But, at the word fromme, he'll ask nothing better than to 'run' you and your German everystep of the way to your own woodshed. Clear out!"
He and the Mistress watched the two irately mumbling intruders plodout of sight up the drive. Lad, at the Master's side, viewed theaccusers' departure with sharp interest. Schooled in reading thehuman voice, he had listened alertly to the Master's speech ofdismissal. And, as the dog listened, his teeth had come slowly intoview from beneath a menacingly upcurled lip. His eyes, half shut, hadbeen fixed on Titus with an expression that was not pretty.
"Oh, dear!" sighed the Mistress miserably, as she and her husbandturned indoors and made their way toward the breakfast room. "You wereright about 'good old Mr. Trouble dropping in on us.' Isn't ithorrible? But it makes my blood boil to think of Laddie being accusedof such a thing. It is crazily absurd, of course. But----"
"Absurd?" the Master caught her up. "It's the most absurd thing I everheard of. If it was about any other dog than Lad, it would be good fora laugh. I mean, Romaine's charge of the dog's doing away with no lessthan four sheep and not leaving a trace of more than one of them.That, alone, would get his case laughed out of court. I remember, oncein Scotland, I was stopping with some people whose shepherd complainedthat three of the sheep had fallen victim to a 'killer.' We all wentup to the moor-pasture to look at them. They weren't a pretty sight,but they were all _there_. A dog doesn't devour a sheep he kills. Hedoesn't even lug it away. Instead, he just----"
"Perhaps you'd rather describe it _after_ breakfast," suggested theMistress, hurriedly. "This wretched business has taken away all of myappetite that I can comfortably spare."
At about mid-morning of the next day, the Master was summoned to thetelephone.
"This is Maclay," said the voice at the far end.
"Why, hello, Mac!" responded the Master, mildly wondering why his oldfishing-crony, the village's local Peace Justice, should be callinghim up at such an hour. "If you're going to tell me this is a good dayfor small-mouth bass to bite I'm going to tell you it isn't. It isn'tbecause I'm up to my neck in work. Besides, it's too late for themorning fishing, and too early for the bass to get up their afternoonappetites. So don't try to tempt me into----"
"Hold on!" broke in Maclay. "I'm not calling you up for that. I'mcalling up on business; rotten unpleasant business, too."
"What's wrong?" asked the Master.
"I'm hoping Titus Romaine is," said the Justice. "He's just beenhere--with his North Prussian hired man as witness--to make acomplaint about your dog, Lad. Yes, and to get a court order to havethe old fellow shot, too."
"What!" sputtered the Master. "He hasn't actually----"
"That's just what he's done," said Maclay. "He claims Lad killed fourof his new sheep night before last, and four more of them this morningor last night. Schwartz swears he caught Lad at the last of the killedsheep both times. It's hard luck, old man, and I feel as bad about itas if it were my own dog. You know how strong I am for Lad. He's thegreatest collie I've known, but the law is clear in such----"
"You speak as if you thought Lad was guilty!" flamed the Master. "Youought to know better than that. He----"
"Schwartz tells a straight story," answered Maclay, sadly, "and hetells it under oath. He swears he recognized Lad first time. He sayshe volunteered to watch in the barnyard last night. He had had a hardday's work and he fell asleep while he was on watch. He says he wokeup in gray dawn to find the whole fl
ock in a turmoil, and Lad pinningone of the sheep to the ground. He had already killed three. Schwartzdrove him away. Three of the sheep were missing. One Lad had justdowned was dying. Romaine swears he saw Lad 'running' his sheep lastweek. It----"
"What did you do about the case?" asked the dazed Master.
"I told them to be at the courtroom at three this afternoon with thebodies of the two dead sheep that aren't missing, and that I'd notifyyou to be there, too."
"Oh, I'll be there!" snapped the Master. "Don't worry. And it wasdecent of you to make them wait. The whole thing is ridiculous!It----"
"Of course," went on Maclay, "either side can easily appeal from anydecision I make. That is as regards damages. But, by the township'snew sheep-laws, I'm sorry to say there isn't any appeal from the localJustice's decree that a sheep-killing dog must be shot at once. Thelaw leaves me no option if I consider a dog guilty of sheep-killing.I have to order such a dog put to death at once. That's what's makingme so blue. I'd rather lose a year's pay than have to order old Ladkilled."
"You won't have to," declared the Master, stoutly; albeit he wasbeginning to feel a nasty sinking in the vicinity of his stomach.
"We'll manage to prove him innocent. I'll stake anything you like onthat."
"Talk the case over with Dick Colfax or any other good lawyer beforethree o'clock," suggested Maclay. "There may be a legal loophole outof the muddle. I hope to the Lord there is."
"We're not going to crawl out through any 'loopholes,' Lad and I,"returned the Master. "We're going to come through, _clean_. See if wedon't!"
Leaving the telephone, he went in search of the Mistress, and more andmore disheartened told her the story.
"The worst of it is," he finished, "Romaine and Schwartz seem to havemade Maclay believe their fool yarn."
"That is because they believe it, themselves," said the Mistress, "andbecause, just as soon as even the most sensible man is made a Judge,he seems to lose all his common sense and intuition and become nothingbut a walking statute-book. But you--you think for a moment, do you,that they can persuade Judge Maclay to have Lad shot?"
She spoke with a little quiver in her sweet voice that roused all theMaster's fighting spirit.
"This Place is going to be in a state of siege against the entire lawand militia of New Jersey," he announced, "before one bullet goes intoLad. You can put your mind to rest on that. But that isn't enough. Iwant to _clear_ him. In these days of 'conservation' and scarcity, itis a grave offense to destroy any meat-animal. And the loss of eightsheep in two days--in a district where there has been such an effortmade to revive sheep raising----"
"Didn't you say they claim the second lot of sheep were killed in thenight and at dawn, just as they said the first were?" interposed theMistress.
"Why, yes. But----"
"Then," said the Mistress, much more comfortably, "we can prove Lad'salibi just as I said yesterday we could. Marie always lets him out inthe morning when she comes downstairs to dust these lower rooms. She'snever down before six o'clock; and the sun, nowadays, rises longbefore that. Schwartz says he saw Lad both times in the earlydawn. We can prove, by Marie, that Lad was safe here in the house tilllong after sunrise."
Her worried frown gave way to a smile of positive inspiration. TheMaster's own darkling face cleared.
"Good!" he approved. "I think that cinches it. Marie's been with usfor years. Her word is certainly as good as a Boche farmhand's. EvenMaclay's 'judicial temperament' will have to admit that. Send her inhere, won't you?"
When the maid appeared at the door of the study a minute later, theMaster opened the examination with the solemn air of a legal veteran.
"You are the first person down here in the mornings, aren't you,Marie?" he began.
"Why, yes, sir," replied the wondering maid. "Yes, always, exceptwhen you get up early to go fishing or when----"
"What time do you get down here in the mornings," pursued the Master.
"Along about six o'clock, sir, mostly," said the maid, bridling a bitas if scenting a criticism of her work-hours.
"Not earlier than six?" asked the Master.
"No, sir," said Marie, uncomfortably. "Of course, if that's not earlyenough, I suppose I could----"
"It's quite early enough," vouchsafed the Master. "There is nocomplaint about your hours. You always let Lad out as soon as you comeinto the music room?"
"Yes, sir," she answered, "as soon as I get downstairs. Those werethe orders, you remember."
The Master breathed a silent sigh of relief. The maid did not getdownstairs until six. The dog, then, could not get out of the houseuntil that hour. If Schwartz had seen any dog in the Romaine barnyardat daybreak, it assuredly was not Lad. Yet, racking his brain, theMaster could not recall any other dog in the vicinity that boreeven the faintest semblance to his giant collie. And he fell torecalling--from his happy memories of "_Bob, Son of Battle_"--that"Killers" often travel many miles from home to sate their mania forsheep-slaying.
In any event, it was no concern of his if some distant collie, drawnto the slaughter by the queer "sixth" collie-sense, was killingRomaine's new flock of sheep. Lad was cleared. The maid's veryevidently true testimony settled that point.
"Yes, sir," rambled on Marie, beginning to take a faint interest inthe examination now that it turned upon Lad whom she loved. "Yes, sir,Laddie always comes out from under his piano the minute he hears mystep in the hall outside. And he always comes right up to me and wagsthat big plume of a tail of his, and falls into step alongside of meand walks over to the front door, right beside me all the way. Heknows as much as many a human, that dog does, sir."
Encouraged by the Master's approving nod, the maid ventured to enlargestill further upon the theme.
"It always seems as if he was welcoming me downstairs, like," sheresumed, "and glad to see me. I've really missed him quite bad thispast few mornings." The approving look on the Master's face gave wayto a glare of utter blankness.
"This past few mornings?" he repeated, blitheringly. "What do youmean?"
"Why," she returned, flustered afresh by the quick change in herinterlocutor's manner. "Ever since those French windows are left openfor the night--same as they always are when the hot weather starts in,you know, sir. Since then, Laddie don't wait for me to let himout. When he wakes up he just goes out himself. He used to do thatlast year, too, sir. He----"
"Thanks," muttered the Master, dizzily. "That's all. Thanks."
Left alone, he sat slumped low in his chair, trying to think. He wasas calmly convinced as ever of his dog's innocence, but he had stakedeverything on Marie's court testimony. And, now, that testimony wasrendered worse than worthless.
Crankily he cursed his own fresh-air mania which had decreed that thelong windows on the ground floor be left open on summer nights. WithLad on duty, the house was as safe from successful burglary inspite of these open windows, as if guarded by a squad of specialpolicemen. And the night-air, sweeping through, kept it pleasantlycool against the next day's heat. For this same coolness, a heavyprice was now due.
Presently the daze of disappointment passed leaving the Master pulsingwith a wholesome fighting-anger. Rapidly he revised his defense and,with the Mistress' far cleverer aid, made ready for the afternoon'sordeal. He scouted Maclay's suggestion of hiring counsel and vowed tohandle the defense himself. Carefully he and his wife went over theirproposed line of action.
Peace Justice Maclay's court was held daily in a rambling room on anupper floor of the village's Odd Fellows' Hall. The proceedings therewere generally marked by shrewd sanity rather than by any effort atformalism. Maclay, himself, sat at a battered little desk at theroom's far end; his clerk using a corner of the same desk for thescribbling of his sketchy notes.
In front of the desk was a rather long deal table with kitchen chairsaround it. Here, plaintiffs and defendants and prisoners and witnessesand lawyers were wont to sit, with no order of precedent or of otherformality. Several other chairs were ranged irregularly along th
e wallto accommodate any overflow of the table's occupants.
Promptly at three o'clock that afternoon, the Mistress and the Masterentered the courtroom. Close at the Mistress' side--though held by noleash--paced Lad. Maclay and Romaine and Schwartz were already onhand. So were the clerk and the constable and one or two idlespectators. At a corner of the room, wrapped in burlap, were huddledthe bodies of the two slain sheep.
Lad caught the scent of the victims the instant he set foot in theroom, and he sniffed vibrantly once or twice. Titus Romaine, his eyesfixed scowlingly on the dog, noted this, and he nudged Schwartz in theribs to call the German's attention to it.
Lad turned aside in fastidious disgust from the bumpy burlapbundle. Seeing the Judge and recognizing him as an old acquaintance,the collie wagged his plumed tail in gravely friendly greeting andstepped forward for a pat on the head.
"Lad!" called the Mistress, softly.
At the word the dog paused midway to the embarrassed Maclay's desk andobediently turned back. The constable was drawing up a chair at thedeal table for the Mistress. Lad curled down beside her, resting onesnowy little forepaw protectingly on her slippered foot. And thehearing began.
Romaine repeated his account of the collie's alleged depredations,starting with Lad's first view of the sheep. Schwartz methodicallyretold his own story of twice witnessing the killing of sheep by thedog.
The Master did not interrupt either narrative, though, on laterquestioning he forced the sulkily truthful Romaine to admit he had notactually seen Lad chase the sheep-flock that morning on Mount Pisgah,but had merely seen the sheep running, and the dog standing at thehill-foot looking upward at their scattering flight. Both the Mistressand the Master swore that the dog on that occasion, had made no moveto pursue or otherwise harass the sheep.
Thus did Lad win one point in the case. But, in view of the after-crimeswherewith he was charged, the point was of decidedly trivialvalue. Even if he had not attacked the flock on his first viewof them he was accused of killing no less than eight of theirnumber on two later encounters. And Schwartz was an eye-witness tothis--Schwartz, whose testimony was as clear and as simple asdaylight.
With a glance of apology at the Mistress, Judge Maclay ordered thesheep-carcasses taken from their burlap cerements and laid on thetable for court-inspection.
While he and Schwartz arranged the grisly exhibits for the judge'sview, Titus Romaine expatiated loudly on the value of the murderedsheep and on the brutally useless wastage in their slaying. TheMaster said nothing, but he bent over each of the sheep, carefullystudying the throat-wounds. At last he straightened himself up fromhis task and broke in on Romaine's Antony-like funeral-oration bysaying quietly:
"Your honor, these sheep's throats were not cut by a dog. Neither byLad nor by any 'killer.' Look for yourself. I've seen dog-killedsheep. The wounds were not at all like these."
"Not killed by a dog, hey?" loudly scoffed Romaine. "I s'pose they waschewed by lightnin', then? Or, maybe they was bit by a skeeter? Huh!"
"They were not bitten at all," countered the Master. "Still less, werethey chewed. Look! Those gashes are ragged enough, but they are asstraight as if they were made by a machine. If ever you have seen adog worry a piece of meat----"
"Rubbish!" grunted Titus. "You talk like a fool! The sheeps' throatsis torn. Schwartz seen your cur tear 'em. That's all there is to it.Whether he tore 'em straight or whether he tore 'em crooked don'tcount in Law. He _tore_ 'em. An' I got a reli'ble witness to proveit."
"Your Honor," said the Master, suddenly. "May I interrogate thewitness?"
Maclay nodded. The Master turned to Schwartz, who faced him in stolidcomposure.
"Schwartz," began the Master, "you say it was light enough for you torecognize the sheep-killing dog both mornings in Romaine's barnyard.How near to him did you get?"
Schwartz pondered for a second, then made careful answer:
"First time, I ran into the barnyard from the house side and your dogcut and run out of it from the far side when he saw me making for him.That time, I don't think I got within thirty feet of him. But I wasnear enough to see him plain, and I'd seen him often enough before onthe road or in your car; so I knew him all right. The next time--thismorning, Judge--I was within five feet of him, or even nearer. For Iwas near enough to hit him with the stick I'd just picked up and toland a kick on his ribs as he started away. I saw him then as plain asI see you. And nearer than I am to you. And the light was 'most goodenough to read by, too."
"Yes?" queried the Master. "If I remember rightly you told JudgeMaclay that you were on watch last night in the cowshed, justalongside the barnyard where the sheep were; and you fell asleep; andwoke just in time to see a dog----"
"To see your dog----" corrected Schwartz.
"To see a dog growling over a squirming and bleating sheep he hadpulled down. How far away from you was he when you awoke?"
"Just outside the cowshed door. Not six feet from me. I ups with thestick I had with me and ran out at him and----"
"Were he and the sheep making much noise?"
"Between 'em they was making enough racket to wake a dead man,"replied Schwartz. "What with your dog's snarling and growling, and thepoor sheep's bl'ats. And all the other sheep----"
"Yet, you say he had killed three sheep while you slept there--hadkilled them and carried or dragged their bodies away and come backagain; and, presumably started a noisy panic in the flock everytime. And none of that racket waked you until the fourth sheep waskilled?"
"I was dog-tired," declared Schwartz. "I'd been at work in oursouth-mowing for ten hours the day before, and up since five.Mr. Romaine can tell you I'm a hard man to wake at best. I sleeplike the dead."
"That's right!" assented Titus. "Time an' again, I have to bang at hisdoor an' holler myself hoarse, before I can get him to open hiseyes. My wife says he's the sleepin'est sleeper----"
"You ran out of the shed with your stick," resumed the Master, "andstruck the dog before he could get away? And as he turned to run youkicked him?"
"Yes, sir. That's what I did."
"How hard did you hit him?"
"A pretty good lick," answered Schwartz, with reminiscent satisfaction."Then I----"
"And when you hit him he slunk away like a whipped cur? He made nomove to resent it? I mean, he did not try to attack you?"
"Not him!" asserted Schwartz, "I guess he was glad enough to get outof reach. He slunk away so fast, I hardly had a chance to land fair onhim, when I kicked."
"Here is my riding-crop," said the Master. "Take it, please, andstrike Lad with it just as you struck him--or the sheep-killingdog--with your stick. Just as hard. Lad has never been struck exceptonce, unjustly, by me, years ago. He has never needed it. But if hewould slink away like a whipped mongrel when a stranger hits him, thesooner he is beaten to death the better. Hit him exactly as you hithim this morning."
Judge Maclay half-opened his lips to protest. He knew the love of thepeople of The Place for Lad, and he wondered at this invitation to afarmhand to thrash the dog publicly. He glanced at the Mistress. Herface was calm, even a little amused. Evidently the Master's requestdid not horrify or surprise her.
Schwartz's stubby fingers gripped the crop the Master forced into hishand.
With true Teutonic relish for pain-inflicting, he swung the weaponaloft and took a step toward the lazily recumbent collie, strikingwith all his strength.
Then, with much-increased speed, Schwartz took three steps backward.For, at the menace, Lad had leaped to his feet with the speedof a fighting wolf, eluding the descending crop as it swishedpast him and launching himself straight for the wielder's throat. Hedid not growl; he did not pause. He merely sprang for his assailantwith a deadly ferocity that brought a cry from Maclay.
The Master caught the huge dog midway in his throatward flight.
"Down, Lad!" he ordered, gently.
The collie, obedient to the word, stretched himself on the floor atthe Mistress' feet. But he kept a watchful and rig
ht unloving eye onthe man who had struck at him.
"It's a bit odd, isn't it," suggested the Master, "that he went foryou, like that, just now; when, this morning, he slunk away from yourblow, in cringing fear?"
"Why wouldn't he?" growled Schwartz, his stolid nerve shaken by theunexpected onslaught. "His folks are here to back him up, andeverything. Why wouldn't he go for me! He was slinky enough when Iwhaled him, this morning."
"H'm!" mused the Master. "You hit a strong blow, Schwartz. I'll saythat, for you. You missed Lad, with my crop. But you've split thecrop. And you scored a visible mark on the wooden floor with it. Didyou hit as hard as that when you struck the sheep-killer, thismorning?"
"A sight harder," responded Schwartz. "My mad was up. I----"
"A dog's skin is softer than a pine floor," said the Master. "YourHonor, such a blow would have raised a weal on Lad's flesh, an inchhigh. Would your Honor mind passing your hand over his body andtrying to locate such a weal?"
"This is all outside the p'int!" raged the annoyed Titus Romaine."You're a-dodgin' the issue, I tell ye. I----"
"If your Honor please!" insisted the Master.
The judge left his desk and whistled Lad across to him. The dog lookedat his Master, doubtfully. The Master nodded. The collie arose andwalked in leisurely fashion over to the waiting judge. Maclay ran anexploring hand through the magnificent tawny coat, from head tohaunch; then along the dog's furry sides. Lad hated to be handled byanyone but the Mistress or the Master. But at a soft word from theMistress, he stood stock still and submitted to the inspection.
"I find no weal or any other mark on him," presently reported theJudge.
The Mistress smiled happily. The whole investigation, up to thispoint, and further, was along eccentric lines she herself had thoughtout and had suggested to her husband. Lines suggested by her knowledgeof Lad.
"Schwartz," went on the Master, interrupting another fuming outbreakfrom Romaine, "I'm afraid you didn't hit quite as hard as you thoughtyou did, this morning; or else some other dog is carrying around a bigwelt on his flesh, to-day. Now for the kick you say you gave thecollie. I----"
"I won't copy _that_, on your bloodthirsty dog!" vociferatedSchwartz. "Not even if the Judge jails me for contempt, I won't. He'dlikely kill me!"
"And yet he ran from you, this morning," the Master remindedhim. "Well, I won't insist on your kicking Lad. But you say it was alight kick; because he was running away when it landed. I am curiousto know just how hard a kick it was. In fact, I'm so curious about itthat I am going to offer myself as a substitute for Lad. My ridingboot is a good surface. Will you kindly kick me there, Schwartz; asnearly as possible with the same force (no more, no less) than youkicked the dog?"
"I protest!" shouted Romaine. "This measly tomfoolishness is----"
"If your Honor please!" appealed the Master sharply; turning from thebewildered Schwartz to the no less dismayed Judge.
Maclay was on his feet to overrule so strange a request. But therewas keen supplication in the Master's eye that made the Judgepause. Maclay glanced again at the Mistress. In spite of the prospectof seeing her husband kicked, her face wore a most pleased smile. TheJudge noted, though, that she was stroking Lad's head and that she wasunobtrusively turning that head so that the dog faced Schwartz.
"Now, then!" adjured the Master. "Whenever you're ready, Schwartz! AGerman doesn't get a chance, like this, every day, to kick anAmerican. And I'll promise not to go for your throat, as Laddie triedto. Kick away!"
Awkwardly, shamblingly, Schwartz stepped forward. Urged on by hisracial veneration for the Law--and perhaps not sorry to assail the manwhose dog had tried to throttle him--he drew back his broganed leftfoot and kicked out in the general direction of the calf of theMaster's thick riding boot.
The kick did not land. Not that the Master dodged or blocked it. Hestood moveless, and grinning expectantly.
But the courtroom shook with a wild-beast yell--a yell of insanefury. And Schwartz drew back his half-extended left foot in suddenterror; as a great furry shape came whizzing through the air at him.
The sight of the half-delivered kick, at his worshipped master, hadhad precisely the effect on Lad that the Mistress had foreseen whenshe planned the manoeuver. Almost any good dog will attack a man whoseeks to strike its owner. And Lad seemed to comprehend that a kick isa more contemptuous affront than is a blow.
Schwartz's kick at the Master had thrown the adoring dog into a maniacrage against this defiler of his idol. The memory of Schwartz's blowat himself was as nothing to it. It aroused in the collie's heart adeathless blood-feud against the man. As the Mistress had known itwould.
The Mistress' sharp command, and the Master's hastily outflung armbarely sufficed to deflect Lad's charge. He writhed in their dualgrasp, snarling furiously, his eyes red; his every giant musclestrained to get at the cowering Schwartz.
"We've had enough of this!" imperatively ordained Maclay, above thebabel of Titus Romaine's protests. "In spite of the informality ofhearing, this is a court of law: not a dog-kennel. I----"
"I crave your Honor's pardon," apologized the Master. "I was merelytrying to show that Lad is not the sort of dog to let a strangerstrike and kick him as this man claims to have done with impunity. Ithink I have shown, from Lad's own regrettable actions, that it wassome other dog--if _any_--which cheered Romaine's barnyard, thismorning, and yesterday morning.
"It was _your_ dog!" cried Schwartz, getting his breath, in a swirlof anger. "Next time I'll be on watch with a shotgun and not astick. I'll----"
"There ain't going to be no 'next time,'" asserted the equally angryRomaine. "Judge, I call on you to order that sheep-killer shot; an' toorder his master to indemnify me for th' loss of my eight killedsheep!"
"Your Honor!" suavely protested the Master, "may I ask you to listento a counter-proposition? A proposition which I think will beagreeable to Mr. Romaine, as well as to myself?"
"The only prop'sition _I'll_ agree to, is the shootin' of that cur andthe indemnifyin' of me for my sheep!" persisted Romaine.
Maclay waved his hand for order; then, turning to the Master, said:
"State your proposition."
"I propose," began the Master, "that Lad be paroled, in my custody,for the space of twenty-four hours. I will deposit with the court,here and now, my bond for the sum of one thousand dollars; to be paid,on demand, to Titus Romaine; if one or more of his sheep are killed byany dog, during that space of time."
The crass oddity of the proposal set Titus's leathery mouth ajar. Eventhe Judge gasped aloud at its bizarre terms. Schwartz looked blank,until, little by little, the purport of the words sank into his slowmind. Then he permitted himself the rare luxury of a chuckle.
"Do I und'stand you to say," demanded Titus Romaine, of the Master,"that if I'll agree to hold up this case for twenty-four hours you'llgive me one thousan' dollars, cash, for any sheep of mine that getskilled by dogs in that time?"
"That is my proposition," returned the Master. "To cinch it, I'll letyou make out the written arrangement, your self. And I'll give thecourt a bond for the money, at once, with instructions that the sum isto be paid to you, if you lose one sheep, through dogs, in the nextday. I furthermore agree to shoot Lad, myself, if you lose one or moresheep in that time, and in that way, I'll forfeit another thousand ifI fail to keep that part of my contract. How about it?"
"I agree!" exclaimed Titus.
Schwartz's smile, by this time, threatened to split his broad faceacross. Maclay saw the Mistress' cheek whiten a little; but her aspectbetrayed no worry over the possible loss of a thousand dollars and thefar more painful loss of the dog she loved.
When Romaine and Schwartz had gone, the Master tarried a moment in thecourtroom.
"I can't make out what you're driving at," Maclay told him. "But youseem to me to have done a mighty foolish thing. To get a thousanddollars Romaine is capable of scouring the whole country for asheep-killing dog. So is Schwartz--if only to get Lad shot. Did yousee the way Sc
hwartz looked at Lad as he went out? He hates him."
"Yes," said the Master. "And I saw the way Lad looked at _him_. Ladwill never forget that kick at me. He'll attack Schwartz for it, ifthey come together a year from now. That's why we arranged it. Say,Mac; I want you to do me a big favor. A favor that comes within thesquare and angle of your work. I want you to go fishing with me,to-night. Better come over to dinner and be prepared to spend thenight. The fishing won't start till about twelve o'clock."
"Twelve o'clock!" echoed Maclay. "Why, man, nothing but catfish willbite at that hour. And I----"
"You're mistaken," denied the Master. "Much bigger fish willbite. _Much_ bigger. Take my word for that. My wife and I have it allfigured out. I'm not asking you in your official capacity; but as afriend. I'll need you, Mac. It will be a big favor to me. And if I'mnot wrong, there'll be sport in it for you, too. I'm risking athousand dollars and my dog, on this fishing trip. Won't you risk anight's sleep? I ask it as a worthy and distressed----"
"Certainly," assented the wholly perplexed Judge, impressed, "but Idon't get your idea at all. I----"
"I'll explain it before we start," promised the Master. "All I want,now, is for you to commit yourself to the scheme. If it fails, youwon't lose anything, except your sleep. Thanks for saying you'llcome."
At a little after ten o'clock that night the last light in TitusRomaine's farmhouse went out. A few moments later the Master got upfrom a rock on Mount Pisgah's summit, on which he and Maclay had beensitting for the past hour. Lad, at their feet, rose expectantly withthem.
"Come on, old Man," said the Master. "We'll drop down there, now. Itprobably means a long wait for us. But it's better to be too soon thantoo late; when I've got so much staked. If we're seen, you can cut andrun. Lad and I will cover your retreat and see you aren't recognized.Steady, there, Lad. Keep at heel."
Stealthily the trio made their way down the hill to the farmstead atits farther base. Silently they crept along the outer fringe of thehome-lot, until they came opposite the black-gabled bulk of thebarn. Presently, their slowly cautious progress brought them to theedge of the barnyard, and to the rail fence which surrounds it. Therethey halted.
From within the yard, as the huddle of drowsy sheep caught the scentof the dog, came a slight stirring. But, after a moment, the yard wasquiet again.
"Get that?" whispered the Master, his mouth close to Maclay'sear. "Those sheep are supposed to have been raided by a killer-dog,for the past two nights. Yet the smell of a dog doesn't even make thembleat. If they had been attacked by _any_ dog, last night, the scentof Lad would throw them into a panic."
"I get something else, too," replied Maclay, in the same all-butsoundless whisper. "And I'm ashamed I didn't think of it before.Romaine said the dog wriggled into the yard through the bars,and out again the same way. Well, if those bars were wide enough apartfor an eighty-pound collie, like Lad, to get through, what would therebe to prevent all these sheep from escaping, the same way, any timethey wanted to? I'll have a look at those bars before I pass judgmenton the case. I begin to be glad you and your wife coerced me into thisadventure."
"Of course, the sheep could have gotten through the same bars that thedog did," answered the Master. "For, didn't Romaine say the dog notonly got through, but dragged three dead sheep through, after him,each night, and hid them somewhere, where they couldn't be found? Noman would keep sheep in a pen as open as all that. The entire story isfull of air-holes."
Lad, at a touch from his Master, had lain softly down at the men'sfeet, beside the fence. And so, for another full hour, the threewaited there.
The night was heavily overcast; and, except for the low drone ofdistant tree-toads and crickets, it was deathly silent. Heatlightning, once in a while, played dimly along the western horizon.
"Lucky for us that Romaine doesn't keep a dog!" whispered Maclay."He'd have raised the alarm before we got within a hundred yardsof here."
"He told my foreman he gave his mongrel dog away, when he stockedhimself with sheep. And he's been reading a lot of rot about dogsbeing non-utilitarian, too. His dog would have been anything butnon-utilitarian, to-night."
A touch on the sleeve from Maclay silenced the rambling whisper.Through the stillness, a house door shut very softly, not faraway. An instant later, Lad growled throatily, and got to his feet,tense and fiercely eager.
"He's caught Schwartz's scent!" whispered the Master, exultantly."Now, maybe you understand why I made the man try to kick me?Down, Lad! _Quiet!_"
At the stark command in the Master's whisper, Lad dropped to earthagain; though he still rumbled deeply in his throat, until a touchfrom the Master's fingers and a repeated "_Quiet_" silenced him.
The hush of the night was disturbed, once more--very faintly. Thistime, by the muffled padding of a man's bare feet, drawing closer tothe barnyard. Lad as he heard it made as if to rise. The Mastertapped him lightly on the head, and the dog sank to the ground again,quivering with hard-held rage.
The clouds had piled thicker. Only by a dim pulsing of far-away heatlightning could the watchers discern the shadowy outline of a man,moving silently between them and the far side of the yard. By thetiny glow of lightning they saw his silhouette.
By Lad's almost uncontrollable trembling they knew who he must be.
There was another drowsy stirring of the sheep; checked by thereassuring mumble of a voice the animals seemed to know. And, exceptfor the stealthy motion of groping feet, the barnyard seemed as emptyof human life as before.
Perhaps a minute later another sulphur-gleam of lightning revealed theintruder to the two men who crouched behind the outer angle of thefence. He had come out of the yard, and was shuffling away. But hewas fully a third wider of shoulder now, and he seemed to have twoheads, as his silhouette dimly appeared and then vanished.
"See that?" whispered the Master. "He has a sheep slung over hisback. Probably with a cloth wrapped around its head to keep itquiet. We will give him twenty seconds' start and then----"
"_Good!_" babbled Maclay, in true buck-ague fever of excitement. "It'sworked out, to a charm! But how in the blazes can we track him throughthis dark? It's as black as the inside of a cow. And if we show theflashlights----"
"Trust Lad to track him," rejoined the Master, who had been slipping aleash around the dog's low-growling throat. "That's what the oldfellow's here for. He has a kick to punish. He would follow Schwartzthrough the Sahara desert, if he had to. Come on."
Lad, at a word from the Master, sprang to the end of the leash, hismighty head and shoulders straining forward. The Master's reiterated"Quiet!" alone kept him from giving tongue. And thus the trio startedthe pursuit.
Lad went in a geometrically straight line, swerving not an inch; withmuch difficulty held back to the slow walk on which the Masterinsisted. There was more than one reason for this insistence. Not onlydid the two men want to keep far enough behind Schwartz to preventhim from hearing their careful steps; but Lad's course was souncompromisingly straight that it led them over a hundred obstaclesand gullies which required all sorts of skill to negotiate.
For at least two miles, the snail-like progress continued; most of theway through woods. At last, with a gasp, the Master found himselfwallowing knee-deep in a bog. Maclay, a step behind him, also plungedsplashingly into the soggy mire.
"What's the matter with the dog?" grumpily demanded the Judge. "He'sled us into the Pancake Hollow swamp. Schwartz never in the worldcarried a ninety pound sheep through here."
"Maybe not," puffed the Master. "But he has carried it over one of thehalf-dozen paths that lead through this marsh. Lad is in too big ahurry to bother about paths. He----"
Fifty feet above them, on a little mid-swamp knoll, a lanternshone. Apparently, it had just been lighted. For it waxed brighter ina second or so. The men saw it and strode forward at top speed. Thethird step caused Maclay to stumble over a hummock and land, noisily,on all fours, in a mud-pool. As he fell, he swore--with a louddistinctness that rang through the swampy st
illnesses, like a pistolshot.
Instantly, the lantern went out. And there was a crashing in among thebushes of the knoll.
"After him!" yelled Maclay, floundering to his feet. "He'll escape!And we have no real proof who he is or----"
The Master, still ankle-high in sticky mud, saw the futility of tryingto catch a man who, unimpeded, was running away, along a dry-groundpath. There was but one thing left to do. And the Master did it.
Loosening the leash from the dog's collar he shouted:
"Get him, Laddie! _Get_ him!"
There was a sound as of a cavalry regiment galloping through shallowwater. That and a queerly ecstatic growl. And the collie was gone.
As fast as possible the two men made for the base of the knoll. Theyhad drawn forth their electric torches; and these now made theprogress much swifter and easier.
Nevertheless, before the Master had set foot on the first bit of firmground, all pandemonium burst forth amid the darkness, above and infront of him.
The turmoil's multiple sounds were indescribable, blending into onewild cacophony the yells and stamping of a fear-demented man, thebleats of sheep, the tearing of underbrush--through and above andunder all--a hideous subnote as of a rabid beast worrying its prey.
It was this undercurrent of sound which put wings on the tired feet ofMaclay and the Master, as they dashed up the knoll and into thepath leading east from it. It spoke of unpleasant--not to saygruesome--happenings. So did the swift change of the victim's yellsfrom wrath to mortal terror.
"Back Lad!" called the Master, pantingly, as he ran. "Back! Let him_alone!_"
And as he cried the command he rounded a turn in the wooded path.
Prone on the ground, writhing like a cut snake and franticallyseeking to guard his throat with his slashed forearm, sprawledSchwartz. Crouching above him--right unwillingly obeying the Master'sbelated call--was Lad.
The dog's great coat was a-bristle. His bared teeth glinted white andblood-flecked in the electric flare. His soft eyes were blazing.
"Back!" repeated the Master. "Back here!"
Absolute obedience was the first and foremost of The Place's fewsimple dog-rules. Lad had learned it from earliest puppyhood. Thecollie, still shaking all over with the effort of repressing his fury,turned slowly and came over to his Master. There he stood stonilyawaiting further orders.
Maclay was on his knees beside the hysterically moaning German roughlytelling him that the dog would do him no more damage, and at the sametime making a quick inspection of the injuries wrought by the slashingwhite fangs in the shielding arm and its shoulder.
"Get up!" he now ordered. "You're not too badly hurt to stand. Anotherminute and he'd have gotten through to your throat, but your clothessaved you from anything worse than a few ugly flesh-cuts. Get up! Stopthat yowling and get up!"
Schwartz gradually lessened his dolorous plaints under the sternauthority of Maclay's exhortations. Presently he sat up nursing hislacerated forearm and staring about him. At sight of Lad he shuddered.And recognizing Maclay he broke into violent and fatly-accentedspeech.
"Take witness, Judge!" he exclaimed. "I watched the barnyard to-nightand I saw that schweinhund steal another sheep. I followed him andwhen he got here he dropped the sheep and went for me. He----"
"Very bad, Schwartz!" disgustedly reproved Maclay. "Very bad,indeed. You should have waited a minute longer and thought up a betterone. But since this is the yarn you choose to tell, we'll look aboutand try to verify it. The sheep, for instance--the one you say Ladcarried all the way here and then dropped to attack you. I seem tohave heard a sheep bleating a few moments ago. Several sheep infact. We'll see if we can't find the one Lad stole."
Schwartz jumped nervously to his feet.
"Stay where you are!" Maclay bade him. "We won't bother a tired andinjured man to help in our search."
Turning to the Master, he added:
"I suppose one of us will have to stand guard over him while the otherone hunts up the sheep. Shall I----"
"Neither of us need do that," said the Master. "Lad!"
The collie started eagerly forward, and Schwartz started still moreeagerly backward.
"Watch him!" commanded the Master. "_Watch_ him!"
It was an order Lad had learned to follow in the many times when theMistress and the Master left him to guard the car or to do sentry dutyover some other article of value. He understood. He would havepreferred to deal with this enemy according to his own lights. But theMaster had spoken. So, standing at view, the collie looked longinglyat Schwartz's throat.
"Keep perfectly still!" the Master warned the prisoner, "and perhapshe won't go for you. Move, and he most surely will. _Watch_ him,Laddie!"
Maclay and the Master left the captive and his guard, and set forth ona flashlight-illumined tour of the knoll. It was a desolate spot, farback in the swamp and more than a mile from any road; a place visitednot three times a year, except in the shooting season.
In less than a half-minute the plaintive ba-a-a of a sheep guided thesearchers to the left of the knoll where stood a thick birch-and-aldercopse. Around this they circled until they reached a narrow openingwhere the branch-ends, several feet above ground, were flecked withhanks of wool.
Squirming through the aperture in single file, the investigators foundwhat they sought.
In the tight-woven copse's center was a small clearing. In this, was arudely wattled pen some nine feet square; and in the pen were bunchedsix sheep.
An occasional scared bleat from deeper in the copse told thewhereabouts of the sheep Schwartz had taken from the barnyard thatnight and which he had dropped at Lad's onslaught before he could putit in the pen. On the ground, just outside the enclosure, lay thesmashed lantern.
"Sheep on the hoof are worth $12.50 per, at the Paterson Market,"mused the Master aloud, as Maclay blinked owlishly at the treasuretrove. "There are $75 worth of sheep in that pen, and there wouldhave been three more of them before morning if we hadn't butted in onHerr Schwartz's overtime labors. To get three sheep at night, it waswell worth his while to switch suspicion to Lad by killing a fourthsheep every time, and mangling its throat with a stripping-knife.Only, he mangled it too efficiently. There was too much _Kultur_about the mangling. It wasn't ragged enough. That's what firstgave me my idea. That, and the way the missing sheep always vanishedinto more or less thin air. You see, he probably----"
"But," sputtered Maclay, "why four each night? Why----"
"You saw how long it took him to get one of them here," replied theMaster. "He didn't dare to start in till the Romaines were asleep, andhe had to be back in time to catch Lad at the slaughter before Titusgot out of bed. He wouldn't dare hide them any nearer home. Titus hasspent most of his time both days in hunting for them. Schwartz wasprobably waiting to get the pen nice and full. Then he'd take a dayoff to visit his relatives. And he'd round up this tidy bunch anddrive them over to the Ridgewood road, through the woods, and so on tothe Paterson Market. It was a pretty little scheme all around."
"But," urged Maclay, as they turned back to where Lad still kept hisavid vigil, "I still hold you were taking big chances in gambling$1000 and your dog's life that Schwartz would do the same thing againwithin twenty-four hours. He might have waited a day or two, till----"
"No," contradicted the Master, "that's just what he mightn't do. Yousee, I wasn't perfectly sure whether it was Schwartz or Romaine--orboth--who were mixed up in this. So I set the trap at both ends. If itwas Romaine, it was worth $1000 to him to have more sheep killedwithin twenty-four hours. If it was Schwartz--well, that's why I madehim try to hit Lad and why I made him try to kick me. The dog went forhim both times, and that was enough to make Schwartz want him killedfor his own safety as well as for revenge. So he was certain toarrange another killing within the twenty-four hours if only to forceme to shoot Lad. He couldn't steal or kill sheep by daylight. I pickedthe only hours he could do it in. If he'd gotten Lad killed, he'dprobably have invented another sheep-killer dog to hel
p him swipe therest of the flock, or until Romaine decided to do the watching.We----"
"It was clever of you," cordially admitted Maclay. "Mighty clever, oldman! I----"
"It was my wife who worked it out, you know," the Master remindedhim. "I admit my own cleverness, of course, only (like a lot of men'smoney) it's all in my wife's name. Come on, Lad! You can guard HerrSchwartz just as well by walking behind him. We're going to wind upthe evening's fishing trip by tendering a surprise party to deargenial old Mr. Titus Romaine. I hope the flashlights will hold outlong enough for me to get a clear look at his face when he sees us."
Lad: A Dog Page 10
