



Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Charles Franks and the
Online Distributed Proofreading Team.










THE DAY OF THE DOG

by

GEORGE BARR MCCUTCHEON
Author of "Grauslark"
"The Sherrods etc"

With Illustrations by
Harrison Fisher
and decorations by
Margaret & Helen Maitland Armstrong

New York
1904




ILLUSTRATIONS


  SWALLOW (in color) Frontispiece
  CROSBY DRIVES TO THE STATION
  THE HANDS HAD GONE TO THEIR DINNER
  THE BIG RED BARN
  THE TWO BOYS
  MRS. DELANCY AND MRS. AUSTIN
  MR. AUSTIN
  MRS. DELANCY PLEADS WITH SWALLOW
  THEY EXAMINE THE DOCUMENTS
  "SHE DELIBERATELY SPREAD OUT THE PAPERS ON THE BEAM" (in color)
  SWALLOW
  SHE WATCHES HIM DESCEND INTO DANGER
  MR. CROSBY SHOWS SWALLOW A NEW TRICK
  "SWALLOW'S CHUBBY BODY SHOT SQUARELY THROUGH THE OPENING" (in color)
  THE MAN WITH THE LANTERN
  MR. HIGGINS
  "HE WAS SPLASHING THROUGH THE SHALLOW BROOK" (in color)
  HE CARRIES HER OVER THE BROOK
  MRS. HIGGINS
  THEY ENJOY MRS. HIGGINS'S GOOD SUPPER
  LONESOMEVILLE
  THE DEPUTY SHERIFF
  CROSBY AND THE DEPUTY
  MRS. DELANCY FALLS ASLEEP
  THEY GO TO THE THEATRE
  "'GOOD  HEAVENS!' 'WHAT IS IT?' HE  CRIED. 'YOU ARE NOT MARRIED,
      ARE YOU?'"
  (in color)
  "CROSBY WON BOTH SUITS"




THE DAY OF THE DOG

PART I


"I'll catch the first train back this evening, Graves. Wouldn't go down
there if it were not absolutely necessary; but I have just heard that
Mrs. Delancy is to leave for New York to-night, and if I don't see her
to-day there will be a pack of troublesome complications. Tell Mrs.
Graves she can count me in on the box party to-night."

"We'll need you, Crosby. Don't miss the train."

[Illustration: Crosby Drives to the Station]

"I'll be at the station an hour before the train leaves. Confound it,
it's a mean trip down there--three hours through the rankest kind of
scenery and three hours back. She's visiting in the country, too, but I
can drive out and back in an hour."

"On your life, old man, don't fail me."

"Don't worry, Graves; all Christendom couldn't keep me in Dexter after
four o'clock this afternoon. Good-by." And Crosby climbed into the
hansom and was driven away at breakneck speed toward the station.

Crosby was the junior member of the law firm of Rolfe & Crosby, and his
trip to the country was on business connected with the settlement of a
big estate. Mrs. Delancy, widow of a son of the decedent, was one of the
legatees, and she was visiting her sister-in-law, Mrs. Robert Austin, in
central Illinois. Mr. Austin owned extensive farming interests near
Dexter, and his handsome home was less than two miles from the heart of
the town. Crosby anticipated no trouble in driving to the house and back
in time to catch the afternoon train for Chicago. It was necessary for
Mrs. Delancy to sign certain papers, and he was confident the
transaction could not occupy more than half an hour's time.

At 11:30 Crosby stepped from the coach to the station platform in
Dexter, looked inquiringly about, and then asked a perspiring man with a
star on his suspender-strap where he could hire a horse and buggy. The
officer directed him to a "feed-yard and stable," but observed that
there was a "funeral in town an' he'd be lucky if he got a rig, as all
of Smith's horses were out." Application at the stable brought the first
frown to Crosby's brow. He could not rent a "rig" until after the
funeral, and that would make it too late for him to catch the four
o'clock train for Chicago. To make the story short, twelve o'clock saw
him trudging along the dusty road covering the two miles between town
and Austin's place, and he was walking with the rapidity of one who has
no love for the beautiful.

The early spring air was invigorating, and it did not take him long to
reduce the distance. Austin's house stood on a hill, far back from the
highway, and overlooking the entire country-side.

The big red barn stood in from the road a hundred yards or more, and he
saw that the same driveway led to the house on the hill. There was no
time for speculation, so he hastily made his way up the lane. Crosby had
never seen his client, their business having been conducted by mail or
through Mr. Rolfe. There was not a person in sight, and he slowed his
progress considerably as he drew nearer the big house. At the barn-yard
gate he came to a full stop and debated within himself the wisdom of
inquiring at the stables for Mr. Austin.

He flung open the gate and strode quickly to the door. This he opened
boldly and stepped inside, finding himself in a lofty carriage room.
Several handsome vehicles stood at the far end, but the wide space near
the door was clear. The floor was as "clean as a pin," except along the
west side. No one was in sight, and the only sound was that produced by
the horses as they munched their hay and stamped their hoofs in
impatient remonstrance with the flies.

"Where the deuce are the people?" he muttered as he crossed to the
mangers. "Devilish queer," glancing about in considerable doubt. "The
hands must be at dinner or taking a nap." He passed by a row of mangers
and was calmly inspected by brown-eyed horses. At the end of the long
row of stalls he found a little gate opening into another section of the
barn. He was on the point of opening this gate to pass in among the
horses when a low growl attracted his attention. In some alarm he took a
precautionary look ahead. On the opposite side of the gate stood a huge
and vicious looking bulldog, unchained and waiting for him with an eager
ferocity that could not be mistaken. Mr. Crosby did not open the gate.
Instead he inspected it to see that it was securely fastened, and then
drew his hand across his brow.

"What an escape!" he gasped, after a long breath. "Lucky for me you
growled, old boy. My name is Crosby, my dear sir, and I'm not here to
steal anything. I'm only a lawyer. Anybody else at home but you?"

An ominous growl was the answer, and there was lurid disappointment in
the face of the squat figure beyond the gate.

"Come, now, old chap, don't be nasty. I won't hurt you. There was
nothing farther from my mind than a desire to disturb you. And say,
please do something besides growl. Bark, and oblige me. You may attract
the attention of some one."

By this time the ugly brute was trying to get at the man, growling, and
snarling savagely. Crosby complacently looked on from his place of
safety for a moment, and was on the point of turning away when his
attention was caught by a new move on the part of the dog. The animal
ceased his violent efforts to get through the gate, turned about
deliberately, and raced from view behind the horse stalls. Crosby
brought himself up with a jerk.

"Thunder," he ejaculated; "the brute knows a way to get at me, and he
won't be long about it, either. What the dickens shall I--by George,
this looks serious! He'll head me off at the door if I try to get out
and--Ah, the fire-escape! We'll fool you, you brute! What a cursed idiot
I was not to go to the house instead of coming--" He was shinning up a
ladder with little regard for grace as he mumbled this self-condemnatory
remark. There was little dignity in his manner of flight, and there was
certainly no glory in the position in which he found himself a moment
later. But there was a vast amount of satisfaction.

The ladder rested against a beam that crossed the carriage shed near the
middle. The beam was a large one, hewn from a monster tree, and was free
on all sides. The ladder had evidently been left there by men who had
used it recently and had neglected to return it to the hooks on which it
properly hung.

When the dog rushed violently through the door and into the carriage
room, he found a vast and inexplicable solitude. He was, to all
appearances, alone with the vehicles under which he was permitted to
trot when his master felt inclined to grant the privilege.

Crosby, seated on the beam, fifteen feet above the floor, grinned
securely but somewhat dubiously as he watched the mystified dog below.
At last he laughed aloud. He could not help it. The enemy glanced upward
and blinked his red eyes in surprise; then he stared in deep chagrin,
then glared with rage. For a few minutes Crosby watched his frantic
efforts to leap through fifteen feet of altitudinal space, confidently
hoping that some one would come to drive the brute away and liberate
him. Finally he began to lose the good humor his strategy in fooling the
dog had inspired, and a hurt, indignant stare was directed toward the
open door through which he had entered.

"What's the matter with the idiots?" he growled impatiently. "Are they
going to let this poor dog snarl his lungs out? He's a faithful chap,
too, and a willing worker. Gad, I never saw anything more earnest than
the way he tries to climb up that ladder." Adjusting himself in a
comfortable position, his elbows on his knees, his hands to his chin, he
allowed his feet to swing lazily, tantalizingly, below the beam. "I'm
putting a good deal of faith in this beam," he went on resignedly. The
timber was at least fifteen inches square.

"Ah, by George! That was a bully jump--the best you've made. You didn't
miss me more than ten feet that time. I don't like to be disrespectful,
you know, but you are an exceedingly rough looking dog. Don't get huffy
about it, old fellow, but you have the ugliest mouth I ever saw. Yes,
you miserable cur, politeness at last ceases to be a virtue with me. If
I had you up here I'd punch your face for you, too. Why don't you come
up, you coward? You're bow-legged, too, and you haven't any more figure
than a crab. Anybody that would take an insult like that is beneath me
(thank heaven!) and would steal sheep. Great Scott! Where are all these
people? Shut up, you brute, you! I'm getting a headache. But it doesn't
do any good to reason with you, I can see that plainly. The thing I
ought to do is to go down there and punish you severely. But I'll--
Hello! Hey, boy! Call off this--confounded dog."

Two small Lord Fauntleroy boys were standing in the door, gazing up at
him with wide open mouths and bulging eyes.

"Call him off, I say, or I'll come down there and kick a hole clear
through him." The boys stared all the harder. "Is your name Austin?" he
demanded, addressing neither in particular.

"Yes, sir," answered the larger boy, with an effort.

"Well, where's your father? Shut up, you brute! Can't you see I'm
talking? Go tell your father I want to see him, boy."

"Dad's up at the house."

"That sounds encouraging. Can't you call off this dog?"

"I--I guess I'd better not. That's what dad keeps him for."

"Oh, he does, eh? And what is it that he keeps him for?"

"To watch tramps."

"To watch--to watch tramps? Say, boy, I'm a lawyer and I'm here on
business." He was black in the face with indignation.

"You better come up to the house and see dad, then. He don't live in the
barn," said the boy keenly.

"I can't fly to the house, boy. Say, if you don't call off this dog I'll
put a bullet through him."

"You'd have to be a purty good shot, mister. Nearly everybody in the
county has tried to do it." Both boys were grinning diabolically and the
dog took on energy through inspiration. Crosby longed for a stick of
dynamite.

"I'll give you a dollar if you get him away from here."

"Let's see your dollar." Crosby drew a silver dollar from his trousers
pocket, almost falling from his perch in the effort.

"Here's the coin. Call him off," gasped the lawyer.

"I'm afraid papa wouldn't like it," said the boy. The smaller lad nudged
his brother and urged him to "take the money anyhow."

"I live in Chicago," Crosby began, hoping to impress the boys at least.

"So do we when we're at home," said the smaller boy. "We live in Chicago
in the winter time."

"Is Mrs. Delancy your aunt?"

"Yes, sir."

"I'll give you this dollar if you'll tell your father I'm here and want
to see him at once."

"Throw down your dollar." The coin fell at their feet but rolled
deliberately through a crack in the floor and was lost forever. Crosby
muttered something unintelligible, but resignedly threw a second coin
after the first.

"He'll be out when he gets through dinner," said the older boy, just
before the fight. Two minutes later he was streaking across the barn lot
with the coin in his pocket, the smaller boy wailing under the woe of a
bloody nose. For half an hour Crosby heaped insult after insult upon the
glowering dog at the bottom of the ladder and was in the midst of a
rabid denunciation of Austin when the city-bred farmer entered the barn.

"Am I addressing Mr. Robert Austin?" called Crosby, suddenly amiable.
The dog subsided and ran to his master's side. Austin, a
black-moustached, sallow-faced man of forty, stopped near the door and
looked aloft, squinting.

"Where are you?" he asked somewhat sharply.

"I am very much up in the air," replied Crosby. "Look a little sou' by
sou'east. Ah, now you have me. Can you manage the dog? If so, I'll come
down."

"One moment, please. Who are you?"

"My name is Crosby, of Rolfe & Crosby, Chicago. I am here to see Mrs.
Delancy, your sister-in-law, on business before she leaves for New
York."

"What is your business with her, may I ask?"

"Private," said Crosby laconically. "Hold the dog."

"I insist in knowing the nature of your business," said Austin firmly.

"I'd rather come down there and talk, if you don't mind."

"I don't but the dog may," said the other grimly.

"Well, this is a nice way to treat a gentleman," cried Crosby
wrathfully.

"A gentleman would scarcely have expected to find a lady in the barn,
much less on a cross-beam. This is where my horses and dogs live."

"Oh, that's all right now; this isn't a joke, you know."

"I quite agree with you. What is your business with Mrs. Delancy?"

"We represent her late husband's interests in settling up the estate of
his father. Your wife's interests are being looked after by Morton &
Rogers, I believe. I am here to have Mrs. Delancy go through the form of
signing papers authorizing us to bring suit against the estate in order
to establish certain rights of which you are fully aware. Your wife's
brother left his affairs slightly tangled, you remember."

"Well, I can save you a good deal of trouble. Mrs. Delancy has decided
to let the matter rest as it is and to accept the compromise terms
offered by the other heirs. She will not care to see you, for she has
just written to your firm announcing her decision."

"You--you don't mean it," exclaimed Crosby in dismay. He saw a
prodigious fee slipping through his fingers. "Gad, I must see her about
this," he went on, starting down the ladder, only to go back again
hastily. The growling dog leaped forward and stood ready to receive him.
Austin chuckled audibly.

"She really can't see you, Mr. Crosby. Mrs. Delancy leaves at four
o'clock for Chicago, where she takes the Michigan Central for New York
to-night. You can gain nothing by seeing her."

"But I insist, sir," exploded Crosby.

"You may come down when you like," said Austin. "The dog will be here
until I return from the depot after driving her over. Come down when you
like."

Crosby did not utter the threat that surged to his lips. With the wisdom
born of self-preservation, he temporized, reserving deep down in the
surging young breast a promise to amply recompense his pride for the
blows it was receiving at the hands of the detestable Mr. Austin.

"You'll admit that I'm in a devil of a pickle, Mr. Austin," he said
jovially. "The dog is not at all friendly."

"He is at least diverting. You won't be lonesome while I'm away. I'll
tell Mrs. Delancy that you called," said Austin ironically.

He turned to leave the barn, and the sinister sneer on his face gave
Crosby a new and amazing inspiration. Like a flash there rushed into his
mind the belief that Austin had a deep laid design in not permitting him
to see the lady. With this belief also came the conviction that he was
hurrying her off to New York on some pretext simply to forestall any
action that might induce her to continue the contemplated suit against
the estate. Mrs. Delancy had undoubtedly been urged to drop the matter
under pressure of promises, and the Austins were getting her away from
the scene of action before she could reconsider or before her solicitors
could convince her of the mistake she was making. The thought of this
sent the fire of resentment racing through Crosby's brain, and he fairly
gasped with the longing to get at the bottom of the case. His only hope
now lay in sending a telegram to Mr. Rolfe, commanding him to meet Mrs.
Delancy when her train reached Chicago, and to lay the whole matter
before her.

Before Austin could make his exit the voices of women were heard outside
the door and an instant later two ladies entered. The farmer attempted
to turn them back, but the younger, taller, and slighter of the
newcomers cried:

"I just couldn't go without another look at the horses, Bob."

Crosby, on the beam, did not fail to observe the rich, tender tone of
the voice, and it would have required almost total darkness to obscure
the beauty of her face. Her companion was older and coarser, and he
found delight in the belief that she was the better half of the
disagreeable Mr. Austin.

"Good-afternoon, Mrs. Delancy!" came a fine masculine voice from
nowhere. The ladies started in amazement, Mr. Austin ground his teeth,
the dog took another tired leap upward; Mr. Crosby took off his hat
gallantly, and waited patiently for the lady to discover his
whereabouts.

"Who is it, Bob?" cried the tall one, and Crosby patted his bump of
shrewdness happily. "Who have you in hiding here?"

"I'm not in hiding, Mrs. Delancy. I'm a prisoner, that's all. I'm right
near the top of the ladder directly in front of you. You know me only
through the mails, but my partner, Mr. Rolfe, is known to you
personally. My name is Crosby."

"How very strange," she cried in wonder. "Why don't you come down, Mr.
Crosby?"

"I hate to admit it, but I'm afraid. There's the dog, you know. Have you
any influence over him?"

"None whatever. He hates me. Perhaps Mr. Austin can manage him. Oh,
isn't it ludicrous?" and she burst into hearty laughter. It was a very
musical laugh, but Crosby considered it a disagreeable croak.

"But Mr. Austin declines to interfere. I came to see you on private
business and am not permitted to do so."

"We don't know this fellow, Louise, and I can't allow you to talk to
him," said Austin brusquely. "I found him where he is and there he stays
until the marshal comes out from town. His actions have been very
suspicious and must be investigated. I can't take chances on letting a
horse thief escape. Swallow will watch him until I can secure
assistance."

"I implore you, Mrs. Delancy, to give me a moment or two in which to
explain," cried Crosby. "He knows I'm not here to steal his horses, and
he knows I intend to punch his head the minute I get the chance." Mrs.
Austin's little shriek of dismay and her husband's fierce glare did not
check the flow of language from the beam. "I AM Crosby of Rolfe &
Crosby, your counsel. I have the papers here for you to sign and--"

"Louise, I insist that you come away from here. This fellow is a fraud--"

"He's refreshing, at any rate," said Mrs. Delancy gaily. "There can be
no harm in hearing what he has to say, Bob."

"You are very kind, and I won't detain you long."

"I've a mind to kick you out of this barn," cried Austin angrily.

"I don't believe you're tall enough, my good fellow." Mr. Crosby was
more than amiable. He was positively genial. Mrs. Delancy's pretty face
was the picture of eager, excited mirth, and he saw that she was
determined to see the comedy to the end.

"Louise!" exclaimed Mrs. Austin, speaking for the first time. "You are
not fool enough to credit this fellow's story, I'm sure. Come to the
house at once. I will not stay here." Mrs. Austin's voice was hard and
biting, and Crosby also caught the quick glance that passed between
husband and wife.

"I am sure Mrs. Delancy will not be so unkind as to leave me after I've
had so much trouble in getting an audience. Here is my card, Mrs.
Delancy." Crosby tossed a card from his perch, but Swallow gobbled it up
instantly. Mrs. Delancy gave a little cry of disappointment, and Crosby
promptly apologized for the dog's greediness. "Mr. Austin knows I'm
Crosby," he concluded.

"I know nothing of the sort, sir, and I forbid Mrs. Delancy holding
further conversation with you. This is an outrageous imposition, Louise.
You must hurry, by the way, or we'll miss the train," said Austin,
biting his lip impatiently.

"That reminds me, I also take the four o'clock train for Chicago, Mrs.
Delancy. If you prefer, we can talk over our affairs on the train
instead of here. I'll confess this isn't a very dignified manner in
which to hold a consultation," said Crosby apologetically.

"Will you be kind enough to state the nature of your business, Mr.
Crosby?" said the young woman, ignoring Mr. Austin.

"Then you believe I'm Crosby?" cried that gentleman triumphantly.

"Louise!" cried Mrs. Austin in despair.

"In spite of your present occupation, I believe you are Crosby," said
Mrs. Delancy merrily.

"But, good gracious, I can't talk business with you from this confounded
beam," he cried lugubriously.

"Mr. Austin will call the dog away," she said confidently, turning to
the man in the door. Austin's sallow face lighted with a sudden
malicious grin, and there was positive joy in his voice.

"You may be satisfied, but I am not. If you desire to transact business
with this impertinent stranger, Mrs. Delancy, you'll have to do so under
existing conditions