Vainly, Trent stamped and writhed to free himself. His wiry strength was pinioned and cramped by the noose and the impeding bag. More of the apple-smelling liquid was dashed into his face through the sack’s loose meshes. Then, as he still struggled and choked, something crashed down upon his skull.
Buff trotted obediently across the road toward the hill pasture. Like his master, Buff had had a happy and busy day. He had been praised much and petted much by Trent, and had had a truly marvellous dinner at the Boone Lake Hotel. He was complacently at peace with the world.
Then all at once he was not at peace with anything. For, far behind him, he heard the noise of scuffling feet and of a loud, choking gasp. And his weird sixth sense told him his master was in trouble.
Wheeling, he set off for the house at a tearing run. Excited as he was, he was aware of a strange and vaguely remembered foot-scent as he whirled in through the gate and up the path. His faint memory of the scent was hostile. He could not remember why.
At a bound he reached the open kitchen door. Trent was lying inert and crumpled on the floor. Two men were bending over him. And, as he charged, Buff caught their scent.
Like a rabid wolf he hurled himself upon the nearest of the men. His teeth closed in Hegan’s shoulder with the bone-crushing grip of his pit terrier ancestors. At the same moment Gates drew a pistol and fired point blank at the leaping dog.
Buff’s muscles collapsed. He slumped to the floor and lay lifelessly across the body of his master.
“What’d you shoot for, you chucklehead!” panted Hegan, nursing his rent shoulder. “Want to bring all Boone Lake down on us?”
“Only way to get him!” retorted Gates. “He’d ‘a’ chewed us both into Hamburg steak if I hadn’t.”
Quickly and deftly the two worked. First assuring themselves that no one had heard the shot, they went through the house and through Trent’s clothes. Then, their loot gathered, they carried it to the barn and stowed it in Trent’s new car. After which, under cover of darkness and carrying Trent between them, they loaded their victim into the tonneau, covering him with a blanket. Then, while Hegan groaningly and laboriously cleaned away the tell-tale blood spots and other marks of struggle, Gates scowled down at the motionless huddle of tawny soft fur.