r. But I kind of
hoped maybe you folks might have done it, yourselves. Can't be too
careful, you know. 'Specially--"

"What in blue blazes are you blithering about?" roared the Master,
finding his voice and marshaling his startled wits. "Do you mean--"

"I mean," said Wefers, rebuking with a cold glare the Master's
disrespectful manner, "I mean I'm here to shoot that big collie of
yours. He was bit by a mad dog, yesterday. So was three other dogs over
in the village. I shot 'em all; before they had time to d'velop
symptoms and things; or bite anybody. One of 'em," he added,
unctuously, "one of 'em b'longed to that little crippled Posthanger
girl. She cried and begged, something pitiful, when I come for him. But
dooty is dooty. So I--"

"OH!"

The Mistress's horrified monosyllable broke in on the smug recital. She
caught Lad protectingly by the ruff and stared in mute dread at the
lanky and red-whiskered officer. Lad, reading her voice as always,
divined this nasal-toned caller had said or done something to make her
unhappy. His ruff bristled. One corner of his lip lifted in something
which looked like a smile, but which was not. And, very far down in his
throat a growl was born.

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 said so, right off, as soon as I
got here. Only, you're wrong about the dog being 'sick.' He was mad.
Had rabies. I'd ought to know. I--"

"How and why ought you to know?" demanded the Master, still battling
for perfect calm, and succeeding none too well. "How ought you to know?
Are you a veterinary? Have you ever made a study of dogs and of their
maladies? Have you ever read up, carefully, on the subject of rabies?
Have you read Eberhardt or Dr. Bennett or Skinner or any of a dozen
other authorities on the disease? Have you consulted such eminent vets
as Hopper and Finch, for instance? If you have, you certainly must know
that a dog, afflicted with genuine rabies, will no more turn out of his
way to bite anyone than a typhoid patient will jump out of bed to chase
a doctor. I'm not saying that the bite of any sick animal (or of any
sick human, for that matter)