“Oh, I see now. You are Jack Ruddy, the lad who shot my dog. Ain’t that so?”
“I did shoot the dog,” answered Jack, boldly. “But I only did it because he was mad and because he wanted to bite Mrs. Bennington.”
“Stuff and nonsense! You shot the dog because you thought it was smart!” growled the horse-dealer. “I ought to have had you locked up for it.”
There was an awkward pause. The boys felt that they could expect anything but kind treatment from Sam Haverick.
“Are you going to call off the dogs?” asked Pepper, at last.
“I will—on one condition,” answered the man, and there was a shrewd look in his face as he spoke.
“What’s that?” asked Jack, although he knew about what was coming.
“That you pay for the dog you shot.”
“How much?”
“Fifty dollars.”