Nobody spoke. The Mistress looked down at the drenched man. Then she winked at the equally silent Master, and laid a caressing little hand on Lad's wet head. At length, Wefers lifted his face and glowered at the trio. But, as his eye met Lad's quizzically interested gaze, he fidgeted.
"Well?" prompted the Master, "do you want those cartridges back?"
Wefers favored him with a scowl of utter dislike. Then, his eyes again averted, the wet man mumbled:
"I come over here today, to do my dooty.—Dogs that get bit by mad dogs had ought to be shot.—I come over here to do my dooty. Likewise, I done it.—I shot that dog of yours that got bit, yest'day."
"Huh?" ejaculated the Master.
"This dog here looks some like him," went on Wefers, sulkily. "But it ain't him. And I'll so report to the author'ties.—I done what I come to do. The case is closed. And-and-if you folks ever want to sell your dog, why,—well, I'll just go mortgage something and—and buy him off'n you!"
CHAPTER III. No Trespassing!
There were four of them; two gaudily-clad damsels and two men. The men, in their own way, were attired as gloriously as the maidens they were escorting. The quartet added generously to the glowing beauty of the summer day.
Down the lake they came, in a canoe modestly scarlet except for a single broad purple stripe under the gunwale. The canoe's tones blended sweetly with the pink parasol and blue picture hat of one of the women.