quarry on the lower side. The Professor swore, and looked as if he
would gladly give chase, but he refrained.

"Here, you," he said in crisp tones to the tramp, "march on ahead of
us, down to the quarry."

The fat ruffian shambled awkwardly down the trail. We had to make
quite a detour to get into the quarry, and by the time we reached
there the other three tramps had got clean away. I was not sorry, to
tell the truth. I thought the Professor had had enough scrapping for
one twenty-four hours.

Peg whinneyed loudly as she saw us coming, but Bock was not in sight.

"What have you done with the dog, you swine?" said Mifflin. "If
you've hurt him I'll make you pay with your own hide."

Our prisoner was completely cowed. "No, boss, we ain't hurt the
dog," he fawned. "We tied him up so he couldn't bark, that's all.
He's in the 'bus." And sure enough, by this time we could hear
smothered yelping and whining from Parnassus.

I hurried to open the door, and there was Bock, his jaws tied
together with a rope-end. He bounded out and made super-canine
efforts to express his joy at seeing the Professor again. He paid
very little attention to me.

"Well," said Mifflin, after freeing the dog's muzzle, and with
difficulty restraining him from burying his teeth in the tramp's
shin, "what shall we do with this heroic specimen of manhood? Shall