"Oh, Michael. Do everything possible to save our dog. You know how much we think of him, and we expect Mr. Dunbar home from his trip soon. Do you think we can save him?"
"I'll take him to the vet's first thing comes daylight," replied the man. "I wouldn't want to take a year's wages in exchange for Shep." He snapped these last words with rather a vengeful meaning. "And I'd like to say, madam, if I might," he continued, "it was a blessing those little girls went after that other youngster to-night, from what I heard later. Seems to me sometimes the babies do know more than their elders."
"Yes, Michael," replied Mrs. Dunbar to whom the news that her dog having been shot was distinctly a shock. "I, too, heard rumors of strange men in town, as I came up from the station. Of course, the police will investigate to-morrow."
CHAPTER XIII
MARY'S MYSTERIOUS PET
The morning dawned on Cragsnook quite as complaisantly as if the night had shed nothing but joy. And quite as indifferently did the girls take up the fun where they left off past midnight, when sheer fatigue had put an end to their tireless pranks. Kicking themselves happily into the new day, vague remembrances of the wild excitement forging through more welcome emotions, the Scouts and their visitor were actually ready for breakfast when Jennie chimed the gong.
Madaline, secretly cherishing the mystery of "something alive" being in Mary's hidden away basket, could scarcely wait for the meal to end before asking Mary about it.
But there were a number of interruptions. Mrs. Dunbar was called twice from the table to answer the telephone, and her monologue hinted the police might be anxious to make an investigation at Cragsnook. Always affable, especially to officials, the last answer given simply was:
"Very well, as early as you please."
That was but a few minutes ago, and now a car was rumbling up the drive.