Mr. Hurdle said he didn't give a cuss if all the women in town were present, he was going to say what he thought of any blankety-blank,—and so on at great length, despite the fact that the ladies crowded even a little closer, evidently reluctant to miss a word of his just and unbridled blasphemy.
The occasion demanded the sonorous efficiency of Mr. Richard Hurdle. In all Windomville there was no one so well qualified to do justice to the situation as he. (Later on, Charlie Webster was heard to remark that "as long as these dogs had to be killed, it's a great relief that Dick's was one of 'em, because he's got the best pair of lungs in town. He can expand his chest nearly seven inches, and when he fills all that extra space up with words nobody ever even heard of before, people clear over in Illinois have to rush out and shoo their children into the house and keep 'em there till it blows over.")
Doctor Smith came rattling up in his Ford, hopped out, and started to enter the drug store. Catching sight of the druggist in the crowd, he stopped to bawl out:
"Who's been buying prussic acid of you, Sam Foster? What do you mean by selling—"
"I ain't sold a grain of prussic acid in ten years," roared Mr. Foster. "Or any other kind of poison. Don't you accuse ME of—"
"Anything new, Doc? Anything new?" cried the editor of the Sun, rushing up to the doctor.
"They got that dog of Alix Crown's. I tried to save him,—but he was as good as dead when I got there. Of all the damnable outrages—"
"Miss Crown's dog?" cried Courtney, aghast, "Good God! Why,—why, it will break her heart! She LOVED that dog! Men! We've got to find the scoundrel. We've got to FIX him. He ought to be strung up. Has any one called Miss Crown up, Doctor? She is in the city. She—"
"Mrs. Strong called her up. The automobile started for town fifteen or twenty minutes ago to bring her home."
"Keep your shirt on, Court," warned Charlie Webster. "You'll bust a blood vessel. Cool off! There's no use talkin' about GETTING him. Whoever it was that planted these dog-buttons around town was slick enough to cover up his tracks. We'll never find out who did it. It's happened before, and the result is always the same. Dead dogs tell no tales."