"There, you can't have any more," said Sam, after he had fed him a couple more pieces. "I've got to treat the rest of the crowd, and there won't be enough to go around."
"Keep your candy, kid; we don't want it," said one of the men good-naturedly, but Sam was so interested in watching the lively little dog that, fortunately, he forgot to eat for a few minutes.
"Hello! What ails the dog?" exclaimed Tyler, suddenly. "How queer he acts! I believe the stuff has made him sick already!"
All eyes were turned on the poor little creature, and it was soon plain to be seen that he was suffering terribly.
"It ought not to hurt him," said one of the men.
"Not if it's all right," said Tyler, going over toward Sam. "Let me see your candy, my boy; I believe there's something wrong with it."
Sam dropped the chocolate that he was just conveying to his mouth, and handed the box to the detective with great alacrity.
"There's something in it, I'm sure," he said, after a careful scrutiny, "and I'm willing to bet the stuff is poisoned!"
A final moan from the poor little dog fully justified him in his decision.
"The dog is dead," said one of the clerks in a solemn voice. "So there isn't a shadow of doubt but what the candy is poisoned."