This sounded so incredible that the guest qualified his assertion.
“Even if he accepted the older scent, it led him straight to the second. All your circlings and doublings availed you nothing; you never perplexed him for more than an instant.”
“How can you know that?”
“There’s your answer.”
Burton nodded toward the steps up which Isaac Rothstein had come some time before. There was Zip, who without baying or making any kind of outcry, galloped over the porch and directly to where the astounded lad was sitting. Stepping a pace or two away, he looked up at the youth and then walked over to his master and sat down beside his chair.
“You can translate his remarks,” said the latter. “Words could not be plainer: ‘There’s the young man who thought he could fool me, but never was he more mistaken.’”
Isaac joined in the clapping of hands. Zip preserved his dignity and paid no heed to strangers. All he cared for was the good opinion of his master and he knew he had that.
“Next!” called Burton, and the tall, stoop-shouldered Hoke Butler rose to his feet.
“I don’t want any help,” he remarked with a wink toward Isaac Rothstein, as Zip sniffed about his feet; “stay right where you are. Mr. Burton, a half hour start will be enough for me.”
“As you please, but you may have two hours if you wish.”