“Who is there? What are you doing with that dog?” and hastened his steps. He crossed the road to Aleko’s side, and stooped over him to see what he held.
Suddenly Solon gave a shrill, joyous bark and the man snatched him out of Aleko’s arms, at the same time giving the boy a violent push which sent him staggering against the closed shutters of the shop.
“You young scoundrel, you! So I have caught you, have I? Do you know that this is my dog?”
Aleko looked up. It was the man he had often seen coming out of the big house in the garden; it was Solon’s master.
“Yes,” he said, “I know; but you need not push people in that way. I was going to bring the dog to your house. Now that you have found him, you can take him yourself.”
And turning his back he was walking off. But Nico Spinotti had been searching for his dog for the whole long hot afternoon; he had walked up and down likely and unlikely streets; he had visited most of the shops at which Anneza dealt, he had been to the police station, and to three newspaper offices, and now that he thought he had found the culprit, and that this culprit was mocking him, his fury knew no bounds. He put Solon down and darting forward seized Aleko by the arm and brought down his walking stick with force across the boy’s shoulders.
“You young limb!” he shouted. “You thieving little blackguard! From where did you steal that dog? Tell me! Tell me or I will pull your ears off!” and each word was accompanied by a fresh blow. The poor boy twisted and writhed, but he had no chance in those strong hands.
“Leave me!” he screamed. “Let go! Why do you strike me? Leave me, I tell you! I never stole your dog …. I found him …. He knows me …. He came to me!”
“You can tell those lies to others! They will not pass with me,” cried the furious man, pushing Aleko away at last and stooping to pick up Solon. “How should my dog know a ragamuffin like you?”