neck and one end of the rope was passed under the footrest and the other end was slipped over the man's arm. So if the dog struggled in any way to free himself, his wind was at once shut off. It was a devilish arrangement, and all Silversheene could do was to rage inwardly. This he did with a vengeance.
He was a gentleman and had been betrayed by two blackguards. He had been tricked. He had not been given a chance to fight for his freedom. But he did not whimper. Instead he occasionally growled deep down in his throat. His eyes became bloodshot, his jaws dripped froth. His great, kind dog heart was nearly bursting with rage. His brain reeled, and he was very near to convulsions.
For hours he lay upon his side while the car rolled rapidly over the smooth roads. Occasionally the man looked over the back of the seat at him. He did not want him to die because he would then lose his part of the plunder, but he did not care how
