And then a dog walked into the room where they sat--a black-and-tan
hound, long-eared, lazy, confident of welcome.

Plunkett turned his head and looked at the animal, which halted,
confidently, within a few feet of his chair.

Suddenly the sheriff, with a deep-mouthed oath, left his seat and,
bestowed upon the dog a vicious and heavy kick, with his ponderous
shoe.

The hound, heartbroken, astonished, with flapping ears and incurved
tail, uttered a piercing yelp of pain and surprise.

Reeves and the consul remained in their chairs, saying nothing, but
astonished at the unexpected show of intolerance from the easy-going
man from Chatham county.

But Morgan, with a suddenly purpling face, leaped, to his feet and
raised a threatening arm above the guest.

"You--brute!" he shouted, passionately; "why did you do that?"

Quickly the amenities returned, Plunkett muttered some indistinct
apology and regained his seat. Morgan with a decided effort
controlled his indignation and also returned to his chair.

And then Plunkett with the spring of a tiger, leaped around the
corner of the table and snapped handcuffs on the paralyzed Morgan's
wrists.