Ira Close came across the yard through the moonlight. "You want me to
pick up those pieces of plate, Mr. Foster?"
"I'll take care of them, Ira. I--I don't want Mrs. Foster to see them."
"Have you his cap?" Dr. Stone asked with that same understanding
gentleness. "I don't believe he was ever taken out to the road. Now,
Tucker, if you'll lead me to where the plate was dropped--. Lady,
forward."
Joe could feel Ira Close beside him rubbing the injured hand as though it
pained, but his eyes were on the man walking beside the dog. They came to
the shattered pieces of crockery. The doctor held the cap to the dog's
nose.
"Lady, find," he said quietly.
Joe trembled. What now? Nose to the ground, the great, tawny dog sniffed
for the scent. And then it moved, not toward the road but off to the left
toward a grove of apple trees. The blind man pulled on the leash and the
dog stopped.
"What lies ahead, Foster?"
"The orchard, the barn where Ira has a room in the loft, the chicken
runs, the cow shed, and Billy's rabbits."
Captain Tucker exploded. "Doctor, this is getting nowhere. The boy may
have gone to the rabbits. That's the trail you may be following this
minute."
In the moonlight the sightless eyes were calm. "Aren't you forgetting the
broken plate, Captain? He started out with feed. Why should he go on
without it?"
Beside him Joe Morrow could feel the hired man still rubbing the hand and
hear the soft scraping of flesh along the bandage. The doctor appeared to
listen to something in the night.
"Are you going on?" Mr. Foster cried.
"Tomorrow," the blind man said with that same gentleness. "The night
offers obstacles. We might miss something we should see."
"But to wait--to wait--" The voice broke.
"We wouldn't hold you in suspense a moment longer than necessary.
Tomorrow, at daybreak. Have you the cap, Joe? Don't lose it."
Ira rumbled a heavy "good-night" and passed from the moonlight into the
shadow of the orchard. A woman's voice called: "Pa! Pa! Captain Tucker's
wanted on the telephone." The captain hurried toward the house. Dr. Stone
spoke softly:
"Ira's been with you a long time, Foster?"
"Nine years. Surly, but a good worker. A bit gruffer than usual tonight.
Billy was always a little afraid of him; that's probably on his mind. And
then this shooting and the loss of his money."
"Money?"
"Three hundred dollars. He drew it out yesterday to send to his sister
and carried it in a hip pocket. That's the pocket in which the
organ-grinder put the note. The money's gone."
The blind man's head was thrown back; Joe saw the lips strained and tight
once more. Captain Tucker came out of the house, slowly.
"Bad news," he blurted. "Our man fooled us. Wasn't on the train; slipped
off at one of the way stations."
Mr. Foster swayed unsteadily. "Don't," he begged hoarsely, "tell Billy's
mother."
The policeman walked down the driveway with the doctor. "That Italian may
have left the train a station or two out, and come back for the boy. I've
ordered every road out of the village guarded."
Joe came away with a choking lump in his throat. The blind man, holding
the harness and walking close to the dog, whistled an almost soundless
whistle. The boy knew, by this sign, that the brain behind the sightless
eyes had caught a glimmer of light.
Suddenly, without warning, the apple-scented peace of the night was
broken by a flash and a roar. A whistling whine filled the air.
"Drop!" Dr. Stone cried.
Not until he lay prone in the road did the boy grasp the significance of
flash and roar. Somebody had fired on them from ambush. A shuddering
chill ran up his spine, and sweat stood out upon his forehead. The
moon-splashed world was silent again, and faintly to his nostrils came
the drift of burnt powder.
Dr. Stone stood up. "Another shot," he called clearly, "and I'll send the
dog to tear you down. Come, Joe."
Quaking, Joe stood up. They moved ahead again, and the boy's nerves were
torture-tight as he waited for another flash and roar. But the silence
remained unbroken and they came at last to the welcome protection of
home.
The boy's voice trembled. "Why did the organ-grinder come back and shoot
at us?"
"That bullet," Dr. Stone said grimly, "was intended for Lady, not for
us." His hand fell upon the dog's head. "Old girl, somebody's afraid you
know too much."
In the chill dark of the following morning the boy and the man gulped hot
coffee in the kitchen. Arising from the table Dr. Stone walked to a desk
in the hall, took out a small first-aid kit, and slipped it into a
pocket. Then man, boy and dog were out in the road, when the first golden
streak was faint in the eastern sky.
Captain Tucker's car stood in the driveway. Mr. Foster looked as though
he had not slept. Ira Close, his right hand wrapped in a handkerchief,
went about small chores.