The Day of the Dog | Page 4

be out when he gets through dinner," said the older boy, just
before the fight. Two minutes later he was streaking across the barn lot
with the coin in his pocket, the smaller boy wailing under the woe of a
bloody nose. For half an hour Crosby heaped insult after insult upon
the glowering dog at the bottom of the ladder and was in the midst of a
rabid denunciation of Austin when the city-bred farmer entered the
barn.

"Am I addressing Mr. Robert Austin?" called Crosby, suddenly amiable.
The dog subsided and ran to his master's side. Austin, a black-
moustached, sallow-faced man of forty, stopped near the door and
looked aloft, squinting.
"Where are you?" he asked somewhat sharply.
"I am very much up in the air," replied Crosby. "Look a little sou' by
sou'east. Ah, now you have me. Can you manage the dog? If so, I'll
come down."
"One moment, please. Who are you?"
"My name is Crosby, of Rolfe & Crosby, Chicago. I am here to see Mrs.
Delancy, your sister-in-law, on business before she leaves for New
York."
"What is your business with her, may I ask?"
"Private," said Crosby laconically. "Hold the dog."
"I insist in knowing the nature of your business," said Austin firmly.
"I'd rather come down there and talk, if you don't mind."
"I don't but the dog may," said the other grimly.
"Well, this is a nice way to treat a gentleman," cried Crosby wrathfully.
"A gentleman would scarcely have expected to find a lady in the barn,
much less on a cross-beam. This is where my horses and dogs live."
"Oh, that's all right now; this isn't a joke, you know."
"I quite agree with you. What is your business with Mrs. Delancy?"
"We represent her late husband's interests in settling up the estate of his
father. Your wife's interests are being looked after by Morton & Rogers,
I believe. I am here to have Mrs. Delancy go through the form of

signing papers authorizing us to bring suit against the estate in order to
establish certain rights of which you are fully aware. Your wife's
brother left his affairs slightly tangled, you remember."
"Well, I can save you a good deal of trouble. Mrs. Delancy has decided
to let the matter rest as it is and to accept the compromise terms offered
by the other heirs. She will not care to see you, for she has just written
to your firm announcing her decision."
"You--you don't mean it," exclaimed Crosby in dismay. He saw a
prodigious fee slipping through his fingers. "Gad, I must see her about
this," he went on, starting down the ladder, only to go back again
hastily. The growling dog leaped forward and stood ready to receive
him. Austin chuckled audibly.
"She really can't see you, Mr. Crosby. Mrs. Delancy leaves at four
o'clock for Chicago, where she takes the Michigan Central for New
York to-night. You can gain nothing by seeing her."
"But I insist, sir," exploded Crosby.
"You may come down when you like," said Austin. "The dog will be
here until I return from the depot after driving her over. Come down
when you like."
Crosby did not utter the threat that surged to his lips. With the wisdom
born of self-preservation, he temporized, reserving deep down in the
surging young breast a promise to amply recompense his pride for the
blows it was receiving at the hands of the detestable Mr. Austin.
"You'll admit that I'm in a devil of a pickle, Mr. Austin," he said
jovially. "The dog is not at all friendly."
"He is at least diverting. You won't be lonesome while I'm away. I'll
tell Mrs. Delancy that you called," said Austin ironically.
He turned to leave the barn, and the sinister sneer on his face gave
Crosby a new and amazing inspiration. Like a flash there rushed into

his mind the belief that Austin had a deep laid design in not permitting
him to see the lady. With this belief also came the conviction that he
was hurrying her off to New York on some pretext simply to forestall
any action that might induce her to continue the contemplated suit
against the estate. Mrs. Delancy had undoubtedly been urged to drop
the matter under pressure of promises, and the Austins were getting her
away from the scene of action before she could reconsider or before her
solicitors could convince her of the mistake she was making. The
thought of this sent the fire of resentment racing through Crosby's brain,
and he fairly gasped with the longing to get at the bottom of the case.
His only hope now lay in sending a telegram to Mr. Rolfe,
commanding him to meet Mrs. Delancy when her train reached
Chicago, and