A door opened. Jan sprang to his feet, hoping he might be able to break the rope and escape before the door was closed. He crouched and leaped with all his strength, but the rope was too strong and he fell with a thud to the floor, where he panted heavily. A flash of light almost blinded him, but he saw William and snarled defiance. Another man was in the room. Jan caught a glimpse of him, gave a sniff, and knew that this other man was the one who had been with William in the Pixley stable. He felt that he had two enemies now to fight.
As William came toward the dog, Jan strained on the rope.
"You'll get that temper taken out of you before long," threatened the man, at the same time keeping carefully beyond the length of the rope. But William's hatred outbalanced his caution, and he lifted his foot to give the dog a kick. Jan shrank back, not from fear as William supposed, but to get a better chance to spring and grab the man's leg.
"Let him alone," called the other man. "The worse you treat that dog the harder it will be to handle him."
William scowled. "The best thing is to kill him now. We're taking a big risk on the chance of selling him."
"Oh, go ahead and kill him if you want to," the other man shrugged his shoulders. "Let your spite keep you from making a thousand dollars."
He held out a bottle, "Here's the chloroform. Go on, finish the job if you're going to."
"I don't believe you can sell him," sneered William. "You just said that because you knew I was going to kill him before I left here."
"If you didn't hate dogs the way you do," replied Shorty, "you'd know that he'll sell for a thousand dollars as soon as he is over the Canadian line. The man I told you about will buy that dog without a question."
"Some one will recognize the dog before we get there, if the old man stirs things up."