"It wasn't my fault. The thing broke itself."
"But how did it happen twice the same day, sonny?" Tom asked.
"I dunno. Hit jist happened," was the dogged answer.
"I've another scoundrel——"
"You must not use such language," Barbara broke in.
"Again begging the pardon of Comrade Judges," the foreman continued: "This dog"—he kicked another slovenly looking lout before the judges—"tore to pieces the shoulders of two pairs of horses with careless harnessing before I found him and kicked him out of the stables. Those four horses can't work for a month. We'll have to pay at least $500 for two teams right away to take their places, or lose a crop of hay."
Tom glared at the culprit.
"What did ye ruin them horses' shoulders fer?"
"I didn't know it," was the sulking answer.
"He's a liar!" cried the foreman. "He put the same collars on their galled necks three days in succession and beat them unmercifully when they couldn't pull the load."