The Day of the Dog | Page 3

and inexplicable solitude. He was, to all
appearances, alone with the vehicles under which he was permitted to
trot when his master felt inclined to grant the privilege.
Crosby, seated on the beam, fifteen feet above the floor, grinned
securely but somewhat dubiously as he watched the mystified dog
below. At last he laughed aloud. He could not help it. The enemy
glanced upward and blinked his red eyes in surprise; then he stared in
deep chagrin, then glared with rage. For a few minutes Crosby watched
his frantic efforts to leap through fifteen feet of altitudinal space,
confidently hoping that some one would come to drive the brute away
and liberate him. Finally he began to lose the good humor his strategy
in fooling the dog had inspired, and a hurt, indignant stare was directed
toward the open door through which he had entered.
"What's the matter with the idiots?" he growled impatiently. "Are they
going to let this poor dog snarl his lungs out? He's a faithful chap, too,
and a willing worker. Gad, I never saw anything more earnest than the
way he tries to climb up that ladder." Adjusting himself in a
comfortable position, his elbows on his knees, his hands to his chin, he
allowed his feet to swing lazily, tantalizingly, below the beam. "I'm
putting a good deal of faith in this beam," he went on resignedly. The
timber was at least fifteen inches square.
"Ah, by George! That was a bully jump--the best you've made. You
didn't miss me more than ten feet that time. I don't like to be
disrespectful, you know, but you are an exceedingly rough looking dog.
Don't get huffy about it, old fellow, but you have the ugliest mouth I
ever saw. Yes, you miserable cur, politeness at last ceases to be a virtue
with me. If I had you up here I'd punch your face for you, too. Why
don't you come up, you coward? You're bow-legged, too, and you

haven't any more figure than a crab. Anybody that would take an insult
like that is beneath me (thank heaven!) and would steal sheep. Great
Scott! Where are all these people? Shut up, you brute, you! I'm getting
a headache. But it doesn't do any good to reason with you, I can see
that plainly. The thing I ought to do is to go down there and punish you
severely. But I'll-- Hello! Hey, boy! Call off this--confounded dog."
Two small Lord Fauntleroy boys were standing in the door, gazing up
at him with wide open mouths and bulging eyes.
"Call him off, I say, or I'll come down there and kick a hole clear
through him." The boys stared all the harder. "Is your name Austin?" he
demanded, addressing neither in particular.
"Yes, sir," answered the larger boy, with an effort.
"Well, where's your father? Shut up, you brute! Can't you see I'm
talking? Go tell your father I want to see him, boy."
"Dad's up at the house."
"That sounds encouraging. Can't you call off this dog?"
"I--I guess I'd better not. That's what dad keeps him for."
"Oh, he does, eh? And what is it that he keeps him for?"
"To watch tramps."
"To watch--to watch tramps? Say, boy, I'm a lawyer and I'm here on
business." He was black in the face with indignation.
"You better come up to the house and see dad, then. He don't live in the
barn," said the boy keenly.
"I can't fly to the house, boy. Say, if you don't call off this dog I'll put a
bullet through him."
"You'd have to be a purty good shot, mister. Nearly everybody in the

county has tried to do it." Both boys were grinning diabolically and the
dog took on energy through inspiration. Crosby longed for a stick of
dynamite.
"I'll give you a dollar if you get him away from here."
"Let's see your dollar." Crosby drew a silver dollar from his trousers
pocket, almost falling from his perch in the effort.
"Here's the coin. Call him off," gasped the lawyer.
"I'm afraid papa wouldn't like it," said the boy. The smaller lad nudged
his brother and urged him to "take the money anyhow."
"I live in Chicago," Crosby began, hoping to impress the boys at least.
"So do we when we're at home," said the smaller boy. "We live in
Chicago in the winter time."
"Is Mrs. Delancy your aunt?"
"Yes, sir."
"I'll give you this dollar if you'll tell your father I'm here and want to
see him at once."
"Throw down your dollar." The coin fell at their feet but rolled
deliberately through a crack in the floor and was lost forever. Crosby
muttered something unintelligible, but resignedly threw a second coin
after the first.
"He'll