volley of pistol-bullets had ended the sufferings of the black
mongrel. She shivered, in reminiscence, as she looked at him. The
memory he evoked was not pleasant.

"Morning!" Wefers observed, curtly, as the Master, with Lad
beside him, stepped forward to greet the scarlet-bearded guest.
"I tried to get over here, last night. But I guess it's soon
enough, today. Has he showed any signs, yet?" He nodded
inquiringly at the impassive Lad, as he spoke.

"'Soon enough' for what?" queried the puzzled Master.

"And what sort of 'signs' are you talking about?"

"Soon enough to shoot that big brown collie of yours," explained
Wefers, with businesslike briskness. "And I'm asking if he's
showed any signs of hydrophoby. Has he?"

"Are you speaking of Laddie?" asked the Mistress, in dismay; as
the slower-witted Master, stared and gulped. "Why should he show
any signs of hydrophobia? He--"

"If he hasn't, he will," rapped out the visitor. "Or he would, if
he wasn't put out of the way. That's what I'm here for. 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--"