The Day of the Dog

by George Barr McCutcheon

"Well, it is the most aimless proceeding I ever saw."

"I hope not. On second thought, everything depends on my aim."

"And what is your aim, Mr. Hercules?"

"See that opening above the box-stall over there?"

"Dimly."

"That's my aim. Heavens, he's a heavy brute."

"Oh, I see!" she cried ecstatically, clapping her hands. "Delicious!
Lovely! Oh, Mr. Crosby, you are so clever."

"Don't fall off that beam, please," he panted. "It might rattle me."

"I can't help being excited. It is the grandest thing I ever heard of. He can't get out of there, can he? Dear me, the sides of that stall are more than eight feet high."

"He can't—get—out—of it if—I get him—in," gasped Crosby.