"You don't have to shout," Jeff soothed. "I can hear you. And I wouldn't shoot, either. The dog's mine, he can't possibly hurt you, and there are two witnesses who will prove it." "Sure thing," Ike agreed happily. "Bucky and me are your boys!" "Make him stop yelling," the constable said. "People are standing on the street, wondering who's getting murdered down here." "Send them down," Jeff invited. "I represent Tarrant Enterprises, Ltd., and I might sell--" "That dog has to stop yelling!" Jeff shook a chiding finger at Pal. "Stop yelling!" Pop and the constable left. Ike and Bucky chuckled. Pal sat down, expectant eyes fixed on the hand that held Jeff's mouth organ. He knew now where the sound originated, and he was ready the instant Jeff raised his hand. Pop and the constable, their faces entreating rather than commanding, came back. "Can't you make him shut up?" "I told him. You heard me tell him." "We can't have that noise." "Why not?" Ike jeered. "Does it keep all the workers in the court house awake?" "Judge Carlson's trying to work," the constable said. "He'll be working until nine tonight." "Thought you said he'd gone fishing?" Jeff accused Pop. "That's Justice Murphy. He hears all the cases where no more than fifty dollars is involved." "Don't make the judge mad!" Ike chortled. "What if he gets real upset?" "Can't you make him shut up?" the constable pleaded. "I'll try." The two went back to the desk. A match flared there, and an oil lamp cast its yellow glow into the corridor; apparently night was approaching. The constable left and Jeff pocketed the mouth organ. Five minutes later he brought it out again and once more Pal wrecked the silence. The door burst open, slammed shut, and Pop and the constable stood before Jeff's cell. Joe Parker spoke, "How'd you like to get out, peddler?" "I don't know," Jeff said smoothly. "I like it here." "Now look, why can't you be reasonable? We haven't got much on you and we're not mad at you. Ever'body's going to be plumb out of their minds if that dog howls down here for a whole week!" "What's your proposition?" Jeff asked serenely. "We'll leave you out, give you and that howling wolf pack ten minutes to get out of town, and start looking for you." Jeff hesitated, scenting a trap and guessing that something besides Pal's howling was involved. Probably Pop had not been reticent about the new prisoner's willingness to consult attorneys.... Jeff said finally, "And if you catch me, you'll have me for breaking jail, too?" The constable retorted grimly, "We don't aim to hunt _that_ hard." For a moment Jeff pondered, as though considering everything seriously. His face was solemn when he looked up. "Nope," he said. "It's not enough." Ike looked pained. "What do you want for getting out of jail?" "Pop owes me thirty-nine cents for a hack saw." "I'll give the hack saw back," Pop offered quickly. "I don't want it. I want thirty-nine cents." "Oh, for pete's sake!"