Bart found Merry sitting on the ground, with the dog in his arms. Boxer had been cut in a terrible manner, and was bleeding in a way that plainly told his end was near.
"Oh, the wretch!" choked Merry, in a husky voice. "Oh, the wretch who did this! He ought to be hanged!"
"No need of hanging for him," said Hodge. "He'll be beyond that in less than three minutes."
"You mean——"
"He's pretty near dead now. Boxer's teeth found his jugular vein."
"Who was it, Bart?"
"The fellow who made the row in Schlitzenheimer's saloon."
"Gentle Bob?"
"Yes."