"Oh, he does, eh? And what is it that he keeps him for?"
"To watch tramps."
"To watch—to watch tramps? Say, boy, I'm a lawyer and I'm here on business." He was black in the face with indignation.
"You better come up to the house and see dad, then. He don't live in the barn," said the boy keenly.
"I can't fly to the house, boy. Say, if you don't call off this dog I'll put a bullet through him."
"You'd have to be a purty good shot, mister. Nearly everybody in the county has tried to do it." Both boys were grinning diabolically and the dog took on energy through inspiration. Crosby longed for a stick of dynamite.
"I'll give you a dollar if you get him away from here."
"Let's see your dollar." Crosby drew a silver dollar from his trousers pocket, almost falling from his perch in the effort.
"Here's the coin. Call him off," gasped the lawyer.
"I'm afraid papa wouldn't like it," said the boy. The smaller lad nudged his brother and urged him to "take the money anyhow."