The Day of the Dog | Page 2

it too late for him to catch the four o'clock train
for Chicago. To make the story short, twelve o'clock saw him trudging
along the dusty road covering the two miles between town and Austin's
place, and he was walking with the rapidity of one who has no love for
the beautiful.
The early spring air was invigorating, and it did not take him long to
reduce the distance. Austin's house stood on a hill, far back from the
highway, and overlooking the entire country-side.
The big red barn stood in from the road a hundred yards or more, and
he saw that the same driveway led to the house on the hill. There was
no time for speculation, so he hastily made his way up the lane. Crosby
had never seen his client, their business having been conducted by mail
or through Mr. Rolfe. There was not a person in sight, and he slowed
his progress considerably as he drew nearer the big house. At the
barn-yard gate he came to a full stop and debated within himself the
wisdom of inquiring at the stables for Mr. Austin.
He flung open the gate and strode quickly to the door. This he opened
boldly and stepped inside, finding himself in a lofty carriage room.
Several handsome vehicles stood at the far end, but the wide space near
the door was clear. The floor was as "clean as a pin," except along the
west side. No one was in sight, and the only sound was that produced
by the horses as they munched their hay and stamped their hoofs in
impatient remonstrance with the flies.
"Where the deuce are the people?" he muttered as he crossed to the
mangers. "Devilish queer," glancing about in considerable doubt. "The
hands must be at dinner or taking a nap." He passed by a row of
mangers and was calmly inspected by brown-eyed horses. At the end of
the long row of stalls he found a little gate opening into another section

of the barn. He was on the point of opening this gate to pass in among
the horses when a low growl attracted his attention. In some alarm he
took a precautionary look ahead. On the opposite side of the gate stood
a huge and vicious looking bulldog, unchained and waiting for him
with an eager ferocity that could not be mistaken. Mr. Crosby did not
open the gate. Instead he inspected it to see that it was securely
fastened, and then drew his hand across his brow.
"What an escape!" he gasped, after a long breath. "Lucky for me you
growled, old boy. My name is Crosby, my dear sir, and I'm not here to
steal anything. I'm only a lawyer. Anybody else at home but you?"
An ominous growl was the answer, and there was lurid disappointment
in the face of the squat figure beyond the gate.
"Come, now, old chap, don't be nasty. I won't hurt you. There was
nothing farther from my mind than a desire to disturb you. And say,
please do something besides growl. Bark, and oblige me. You may
attract the attention of some one."
By this time the ugly brute was trying to get at the man, growling, and
snarling savagely. Crosby complacently looked on from his place of
safety for a moment, and was on the point of turning away when his
attention was caught by a new move on the part of the dog. The animal
ceased his violent efforts to get through the gate, turned about
deliberately, and raced from view behind the horse stalls. Crosby
brought himself up with a jerk.
"Thunder," he ejaculated; "the brute knows a way to get at me, and he
won't be long about it, either. What the dickens shall I--by George, this
looks serious! He'll head me off at the door if I try to get out and--Ah,
the fire-escape! We'll fool you, you brute! What a cursed idiot I was not
to go to the house instead of coming--" He was shinning up a ladder
with little regard for grace as he mumbled this self-condemnatory
remark. There was little dignity in his manner of flight, and there was
certainly no glory in the position in which he found himself a moment
later. But there was a vast amount of satisfaction.

The ladder rested against a beam that crossed the carriage shed near the
middle. The beam was a large one, hewn from a monster tree, and was
free on all sides. The ladder had evidently been left there by men who
had used it recently and had neglected to return it to the hooks on
which it properly hung.
When the dog rushed violently through the door and into the carriage
room, he found a vast