Dr. Stone stood up. “No threats, if you please,” he said coolly.
Joe marveled that, blind, his uncle could face this unknown hazard with unruffled calm. But then, of course, there was Lady. The dog was like a tempered spring, wound.
The man called Rog flew into a rage. “None of your soft talk. What are you doing at that car? By God, if——”
Lady gave an ominous, warning growl. The threat stopped as though a gag had been rammed down the speaker’s throat.
“It’s the blind man, Rog,” the sharp voice said; “the blind man and a boy.”
Lady continued to growl a deep warning. A form backed away quickly, and the deadly chill went out of Rog’s voice, and he was genial and mellow.
“A thousand apologies, sir. The business of jacking up a car and stealing the tires has become so widespread——. You understand, sir?”
“Perfectly,” Dr. Stone said blandly, and quieted the dog. The car backed around and lurched through the ruts, but not until it was well on its way were the lights turned on.
“What did they look like?” Dr. Stone asked.
“I couldn’t see their faces,” the boy answered; “it was too dark.”