“There’s sympathy for you,” observed the Poet. “Never tell me again that a cow lacks intelligence, or a bull-calf perspicacity. Any one can see that they’re bemoaning disaster to those eggs.”
“For the land sakes, Gabe, turn the critters out,” said Amanda.
“No,” said the Poet solemnly, disregarding Galatea’s warnings not to trifle with disaster, “they must be held as witnesses; a crime has been committed.”
Just then Napoleon crawled under the fence, lifted one front paw, cocked one ear, and looked inquiringly in the face of the dripping Gabriel. Amanda seemed startled by a sudden suspicion.
“Gabe,” she said, “do you suppose the dog—”
“I’ll settle that in two shakes of a lamb’s tail,” said Gabriel, who had already divined Amanda’s suspicion.
He took the whimpering terrier by the collar and dragged him toward the gate.
“Wait a bit; not so fast,” said the Poet. “Where’s your evidence against Napoleon?”
Gabriel pointed to certain yellow stains about the terrier’s muzzle.
“That’s egg—Golden Guinea egg at fifty cents apiece. Open the gate, Mandy.”