The crass oddity of the proposal set Titus's leathery mouth ajar. Even the Judge gasped aloud at its bizarre terms. Schwartz looked blank, until, little by little, the purport of the words sank into his slow mind. Then he permitted himself the rare luxury of a chuckle. "Do I und'stand you to say," demanded Titus Romaine, of the Master, "that if I'll agree to hold up this case for twenty-four hours you'll give me one thousan' dollars, cash, for any sheep of mine that gets killed by dogs in that time?" "That is my proposition," returned the Master. "To cinch it, I'll let you make out the written arrangement, your self. And I'll give the court a bond for the money, at once, with instructions that the sum is to be paid to you, if you lose one sheep, through dogs, in the next day. I furthermore agree to shoot Lad, myself, if you lose one or more sheep in that time, and in that way, I'll forfeit another thousand if I fail to keep that part of my contract. How about it?" "I agree!" exclaimed Titus. Schwartz's smile, by this time, threatened to split his broad face across. Maclay saw the Mistress' cheek whiten a little; but her aspect betrayed no worry over the possible loss of a thousand dollars and the far more painful loss of the dog she loved. When Romaine and Schwartz had gone, the Master tarried a moment in the courtroom. "I can't make out what you're driving at," Maclay told him. "But you seem to me to have done a mighty foolish thing. To get a thousand dollars Romaine is capable of scouring the whole country for a sheep-killing dog. So is Schwartz--if only to get Lad shot. Did you see the way Schwartz looked at Lad as he went out? He hates him." "Yes," said the Master. "And I saw the way Lad looked at _him_. Lad will never forget that kick at me. He'll attack Schwartz for it, if they come together a year from now. That's why we arranged it. Say, Mac; I want you to do me a big favor. A favor that comes within the square and angle of your work. I want you to go fishing with me, to-night. Better come over to dinner and be prepared to spend the night. The fishing won't start till about twelve o'clock." "Twelve o'clock!" echoed Maclay. "Why, man, nothing but catfish will bite at that hour. And I----" "You're mistaken," denied the Master. "Much bigger fish will bite. _Much_ bigger. Take my word for that. My wife and I have it all figured out. I'm not asking you in your official capacity; but as a friend. I'll need you, Mac. It will be a big favor to me. And if I'm not wrong, there'll be sport in it for you, too. I'm risking a thousand dollars and my dog, on this fishing trip. Won't you risk a night's sleep? I ask it as a worthy and distressed----" "Certainly," assented the wholly perplexed Judge, impressed, "but I don't get your idea at all. I----"