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"Well?" prompted the Master, "do you want those cartridges back?" Wefers favored him with a scowl of utter dislike. Then, his eyes again averted, the wet man mumbled: "I come over here today, to do my dooty. Dogs that get bit by mad dogs had ought to be shot. I come over here to do my dooty. Likewise, I done it. I shot that dog of yours that got bit, yest'day." "Huh?" ejaculated the Master.
And, to Lad, the very atmosphere about him was thrilling just now to waves of stark excitement. With the delightful vanity which is a part of the collie make-up, he realized that in some manner he himself was a prominent part of this excitement. And he reveled in it. As Wefers pulled back his imperiled arm, the Mistress stepped forward, before the Master could speak or move.
As the Master set foot on the dock he saw the Collie rush forward with an impetus that sent both shaggy mahogany shoulders far out of water. Striking with brilliant accuracy, the dog avoided Wefers' flailing arms and feet, and clinched his strong teeth into the back of the drowning man's collar. Thus, Lad was safe from the blindly clinging arms and from a kick.
"In case of accidents," he explained, pleasantly, as he handed the pistol back to its scowling owner. "And if you'll stop at the post-office, this afternoon, you'll find these shells in an envelope in your letter-box. Now, chase; unless you want Lad to escort you to your boat. Lad is fine at escorting undesirables off the Place. Want to see him perform?" But Wefers did not answer.
The dog struck water, a bare ten inches from Wefers' madly tossing head. The constable, in his crazy panic, flung both bony arms about the dog. And, man and collie together disappeared under the surface, in a swirl of churned foam. The Mistress cried aloud, at this hideous turn her pretty plan had taken. The Master, one shoe off and one shoe on, hobbled at top pace toward the dock.
"So much for the gun!" he blazed, advancing an the astounded Wefers. "Now, unless you want to follow it " "Dear!" expostulated the Mistress, her sweet voice atremble. "I'm an of'cer of the law!" blustered the offended constable; in the same breath adding: "And resisting an of'cer in the p'soot of his dooty is a misde " He checked himself, unconsciously turning to observe the odd actions of Lad.
But the Master stepped in front of his wife and his dog, and confronted the constable. Fighting for calmness, he asked: "Do I understand that you shot those harmless little pups just because a dog that was sick, and not rabid, happened to nip them? And that you've come across here with an idea of doing the same thing to Lad? Is that it?" "That's the idea," assented Wefers.
I don't quite know how we are going to prevent it. But we're going to. That's a pledge. So you're not to worry." As they talked they continued to watch the constable in his clumping exit from the Place. Wefers reached the dock, and stamped out to its extreme end, where was moored the livery scow he had commandeered for his journey across the lake from the village. A light wind was blowing.
By the time the dazed constable was able to sit up and peer owlishly into the unloving faces of the Mistress and the Master, Lad had shaken himself thrice and was pattering across the dock toward the group. From the two humans, Wefers' gaze shifted to the oncoming dog. Then he glanced back at the sullen depths of lake water beyond the string-piece. Then he let his head sink on his chest.
The Master, facing the constable, did not see his pet's performance. He took up the thread of speech where Wefers dropped it. "I don't know what the law does or doesn't empower you to do, in such cases," he said, trying to force his way back to the earlier semblance of calm.
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