“Neither,” quoth Poke calmly. “But unless you make him understand that he’s being punished for stealing, he’ll think you’re thrashing him out of pure meanness.”
Step rubbed his chin. “I suppose that’s so,” he admitted. “But how can you work it? How can you make him understand? I’m weak on dog-lingo, myself.”
Poke smiled, a little pityingly. “Listen, and I’ll tell you something I read the other day. There was a chap who owned a dog, and he was a bully dog, except that he would steal chickens. So the man tied a dead hen to his collar, and left it there till—well, till that dog didn’t want ever to see another one or get anywhere near it. And that’s my idea—something like it, anyway—for teaching the hound a lesson.”
Step began to take interest. “Gee, but you have got an idea there! Only, if there’s anything left of the chicken he stole, we don’t know where to find it. And——”
“Don’t need to!” Poke broke in. “Look here now! Say you’re dealing with chickens. What do you come to first?”
“Hen-house,” said Step promptly.
Poke frowned. “No, no! Wake up! You come first to the feathers.”
“Oh, that way? Yes!”
The frown vanished. “Exactly!” said Poke. “So, if we teach that dog to let feathers alone, he won’t bother many chickens—see?”
Step’s manner was slightly skeptical. “Oh, that’s easy to talk about, but, practically, how are you going——”