"I got a witness to prove he killed my sheep," cut in Romaine. "Since you won't be honest enough to square the case out of court, then the law'll take a tuck in your wallet for you. The law will look after a poor man's int'rest. I don't wonder there's folks who want all dogs done 'way with. Pesky curs! Here, the papers say we are short on sheep, an' they beg us to raise 'em, because mutton is worth double what it used to be, in open market. Then, when I buy sheep, on that sayso, your dog gets four of 'em the very first week. Think what them four sheep would 'a meant to----" "I'm sorry you lost them," the Master interrupted. "Mighty sorry. And I'm still sorrier if there is a sheep-killing dog at large anywhere in this region. But Lad never----" "I tell ye, he _did!_" stormed Titus. "I got proof of it. Proof good enough for any court. An' the court is goin' to see me righted. It's goin' to do more. It's goin' to make you shoot that killer, there, too. I know the law. I looked it up. An' the law says if a sheep-killin' dog----" "Lad is not a sheep-killing dog!" flashed the Mistress. "That's what he is!" snarled Romaine. "An', by law, he'll be shot as sech. He----" "Take your case to law, then!" retorted the Master, whose last shred of patience went by the board, at the threat. "And take it and yourself off my Place! Lad doesn't 'run' sheep. But, at the word from me, he'll ask nothing better than to 'run' you and your German every step of the way to your own woodshed. Clear out!" He and the Mistress watched the two irately mumbling intruders plod out of sight up the drive. Lad, at the Master's side, viewed the accusers' departure with sharp interest. Schooled in reading the human voice, he had listened alertly to the Master's speech of dismissal. And, as the dog listened, his teeth had come slowly into view from beneath a menacingly upcurled lip. His eyes, half shut, had been fixed on Titus with an expression that was not pretty. "Oh, dear!" sighed the Mistress miserably, as she and her husband turned indoors and made their way toward the breakfast room. "You were right about 'good old Mr. Trouble dropping in on us.' Isn't it horrible? But it makes my blood boil to think of Laddie being accused of such a thing. It is crazily absurd, of course. But----" "Absurd?" the Master caught her up. "It's the most absurd thing I ever heard of. If it was about any other dog than Lad, it would be good for a laugh. I mean, Romaine's charge of the dog's doing away with no less than four sheep and not leaving a trace of more than one of them. That, alone, would get his case laughed out of court. I remember, once in Scotland, I was stopping with some people whose shepherd complained that three of the sheep had fallen victim to a 'killer.' We all went up to the moor-pasture to look at them. They weren't a pretty sight, but they were all _there_. A dog doesn't devour a sheep he kills. He doesn't even lug it away. Instead, he just----"