"I dare say he's out of the county by now," said Tinker thoughtfully.
"You young blackguard!" said Alloway, and stepped towards the kennel.
Blazer shot out to the length of his chain; and Alloway, in his fury,
cut him savagely with his whip. Blazer roared rather than barked; the
noise stimulated Tinker's wits; and he saw his way.
Alloway recovered himself sufficiently to say with choking emphasis,
"Horse, or no horse, you don't get me to leave here!" and went back to
the gate.
Tinker let him climb on it, and then he said gently, "Have you ever
played at being a runaway slave hunted by bloodhounds, Mr. Alloway?"
Alloway scowled at him most malignantly.
"I should think it would be quite an exciting game. It doesn't really
matter that Blazer's only a bull terrier; we can call him a bloodhound,
you know," Tinker went on, looking at the dog a little regretfully.
Alloway, coddling his fury, scarcely heard him.
"I'll be the slave-owner," said Tinker, fumbling with the chain.
It came out of the staple; and Alloway roared, "What are you doing, you
young rascal?"
"Oh, it's all right," said Tinker. "Don't be frightened; I'll keep him
on leash till you get a good lead."
Alloway jumped down from the gate, on the other side of it, his anger
changed to uncertainty spiced with discomfort.
Pages:
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62