"Your Honor," said the Master, suddenly. "May I interrogate the witness?"
Maclay nodded. The Master turned to Schwartz, who faced him in stolid composure.
"Schwartz," began the Master, "you say it was light enough for you to recognize the sheep-killing dog both mornings in Romaine's barnyard. How near to him did you get?"
Schwartz pondered for a second, then made careful answer:
"First time, I ran into the barnyard from the house side and your dog cut and run out of it from the far side when he saw me making for him. That time, I don't think I got within thirty feet of him. But I was near enough to see him plain, and I'd seen him often enough before on the road or in your car; so I knew him all right. The next time—this morning, Judge—I was within five feet of him, or even nearer. For I was near enough to hit him with the stick I'd just picked up and to land a kick on his ribs as he started away. I saw him then as plain as I see you. And nearer than I am to you. And the light was 'most good enough to read by, too."
"Yes?" queried the Master. "If I remember rightly you told Judge Maclay that you were on watch last night in the cowshed, just alongside the barnyard where the sheep were; and you fell asleep; and woke just in time to see a dog——"
"To see your dog——" corrected Schwartz.
"To see a dog growling over a squirming and bleating sheep he had pulled down. How far away from you was he when you awoke?"
"Just outside the cowshed door. Not six feet from me. I ups with the stick I had with me and ran out at him and——"
"Were he and the sheep making much noise?"