As William came toward the dog, Jan strained on the rope.

“You’ll get that temper taken out of you before long,” threatened the man, at the same time keeping carefully beyond the length of the rope.  But William’s hatred outbalanced his caution, and he lifted his foot to give the dog a kick.  Jan shrank back, not from fear as William supposed, but to get a better chance to spring and grab the man’s leg.

“Let him alone,” called the other man.  “The worse you treat that dog the harder it will be to handle him.”

William scowled.  “The best thing is to kill him now.  We’re taking a big risk on the chance of selling him.”

“Oh, go ahead and kill him if you want to,” the other man shrugged his shoulders.  “Let your spite keep you from making a thousand dollars.”

He held out a bottle, “Here’s the chloroform.  Go on, finish the job if you’re going to.”

“I don’t believe you can sell him,” sneered William.  “You just said that because you knew I was going to kill him before I left here.”

“If you didn’t hate dogs the way you do,” replied Shorty, “you’d know that he’ll sell for a thousand dollars as soon as he is over the Canadian line.  The man I told you about will buy that dog without a question.”

“Some one will recognize the dog before we get there, if the old man stirs things up.”

“Not when I get him fixed,” bragged Shorty.

“There’s no time to fool with him,” persisted William, “We’ve got to get away quick.”

“Let me alone,” snapped Shorty.  “This is my end of the job.  If you stop picking on the dog, I’ll have no trouble with him.  I never knew a dog from the time we were kids that didn’t hate you on sight.”

“Yes, and you’re a regular fool over them,” William retorted.  “You take care of him and get the money for him, and I’ll look out for the machine and sell that.  But you’ve got to keep that dog muzzled or there’ll be trouble coming your way fast and plenty.  See?”

Shorty did not answer and William went out.  Jan and Shorty faced each other.  The dog’s muscles were taut, his eyes alert.  The man looked at him steadily.

“You’re the dandiest, spunkiest dog I ever saw,” he said at last, as though sure that Jan understood the words.  “I like you, old fellow, and I’d turn you loose, if I dared.”

He placed a pan of water in front of the dog and the angry gleam softened in Jan’s eyes.  He thrust his nose into the pan but the muzzle was too tight to permit him to drink.  The dog looked up at Shorty, who reached out his hand.  Jan’s tail waved, then he felt fingers run lightly along his shoulders, fumble at the buckle of the muzzle and the cruel thing fell to the floor.  Before the dog lapped the water that he craved, he stared into Shorty’s face and saw a kindly smile that told him this man was a friend.  Jan’s hot tongue touched Shorty’s hand before turning to lap the cool liquid.